Need
by dgschneider
Summary: story takes place during season 6 sometimes after Doctor in the Photo - Brennan deals with the aftermath of a traumatic event with Booth's help. Healing is a process for both of them but then love is what you've been through together.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N ** To say I have never done this before would be a wild understatement! I've never even considered doing this but thanks to a wonderfully supportive husband and my good friend/adopted daughter givesup (whose name should be _never_givesup because she is that amazing) I am diving outside the comfort zone. They have been the only ones reading this and have encouraged and pushed me. This started as an experiment as I thought how I might handle writing about a traumatic event, showing the emotions, the depth of it without giving a blow by blow. Reviews are welcome - I would love to know what you think of it.

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He leaned in putting his face as close to hers as he could, one hand holding hers the other stroking her hair. His jaw was pulsing, eyes fighting to hold back the wide range of emotions coursing through his veins. This moment was about her, he reminded himself to stay as calm as he could, there would be time for him later. Right now she needed him to be strong. She looked at him, sorrow, confusion, fear, she was seeking him with those penetrating blue eyes, seeking his strength, and she would have it – every ounce he could give, she would have it. He felt her tremble. Right now the strong impetuous woman that never wanted or needed his help was gone, he saw what he figured was the scared 15 year old whose parents had abandoned her. The young Temperance trapped for 2 days in the trunk of a car suffering abuse at the hands of unworthy foster parents. He was looking at the girl before she shut completely off. He was looking at the vulnerable child that would eventually decide to never be vulnerable again. He was praying that he could hold onto her enough; make her feel safe enough to not lose the woman she had become, to not lose the ground she had gained in opening up.

In the smallest voice she confessed, "it hurts."

"I know, Baby, I know. They're almost done," he felt himself holding his breath as his eyes darted from her, to them, and back to her watching to see where they were in the process, trying to prepare her for what was next. He closed his eyes for just a moment, his mind racing through the events of the night.

It was probably around 2am when he got the call – late enough that he knew the minute her name popped up on his cell screen that something was wrong. His heart immediately racing, he jumped for his jeans, a t-shirt, shoes, keys, it took him just moments. Hannah chasing him through his apartment the whole time. He was ready to head out the door, about to head out the door with Bones rambling in one ear and Hannah bitching about him leaving in the other. Things hadn't been right with his relationship with Hannah since he told her about Bones' confession of love. She said there was no problem but he was gifted at reading people and he could see it in everything she didn't say.

Now she was saying that there was no reason to race to Tempe's side, that she was probably just drunk, that this was quickly becoming a choice between her and Temperance. But Booth knew what Bones sounded like when she was drunk and this was not that. Something wasn't right – he heard it in Bones' voice, heard her dry heave, cry, heard the muffled sounds of the phone sliding from her grip, heard it hit the ground. It sounded like she was losing consciousness. He begged her to stay with him to keep talking even though she was making no sense. Ignoring Hannah he grabbed the home phone and had the GPS locator activated on her phone and requested a call to his car with the information.

Hannah was still chasing him as he headed out the door. "If you love me you won't go, Seeley."

His response was simple, with no time to mess with being political correctness or spare her feeling he turned and stated the only thing he could, "I've loved her longer, Hannah, I have to go."

He was gone.

Her whimpered cry in pain brought him back to her bedside. "It's okay, Bones, I am here, I'm not leaving, I'm staying right here with you. That's it; just squeeze my hand when it hurts, as hard as you can, as hard as you need to." She clung to him, to his safety, his strength. She looked straight into him for every bit of it she could find in those soft gentle eyes. He took a deep breath – the doctor nodded at him – she was done, done cleaning wounds, done with the few butterfly bandages she needed, done with blood tests, done with the rape kit. "See, it's all over, you did great, Bones." She rolled her whole body towards him, curled around him as much as she could. They layered her in fresh warmed blankets. She was in shock still, shaking uncontrollably, teeth chattering. He stroked her hair and laid a soft kiss on her forehead. "You did it, Baby. I am so proud of you, you are so strong. You'll be okay. I will be here, I'll help, okay?" he kept a steady stream of soft gentle words whispered into her ear. She nodded in acceptance. If he slowed the pace or stopped altogether she would get agitated, letting him know how much she needed his reassuring words right now.

He would have to thank Angela later for installing the GPS locator on Bones' phone. That's what he thought as dispatch called him with her location. Frantic was what he felt now, frantic to find her, the GPS only got him so close. His heart was beating faster and faster as he barreled down the alley throwing crap aside as he looked for her. He collapsed near her limp body lying there beaten, broken slumped in the alley behind a club. Blood trickling down her tender perfect skin, vomit in her hair, clothes torn, ripped, dirty, she had obviously fought. That was his Bones, a fighter. He gathered her up in his arms, holding her close. She recognized him, acknowledged him, but she was making no sense, rambling. He found her phone lying near her body.

He called it in directly to Cullen. Cullen would handle everything else, the call for EMS, an Ambulance, for backup, this had to be discrete, she would want him to be discrete. Cullen understood that.

For a very short moment it was just them in that dark foreboding alley. He held her, she might never remember but in her ramblings she told him she loved him, that she needed him, she begged him to stay. He promised he would. She apologized over and over; he didn't even know what she was apologizing for. Watching her now he was sure she had been drugged. It broke his heart as she rambled on telling him about her attackers, about trying to fight but being so dizzy, interlaced with more apologies. He knew that everything would be foggy and the memories she did have would fade. He had to know as much as she could remember. He set his phone to record and asked as many questions as he could think of as he held her broken body as close to his as he could. Later, when he reviewed the recording, he could hear his own voice crack with emotion he just couldn't contain.

Now, sitting with her here in this cold sterile emergency room, he wondered how much she would remember. Would she remember clinging to him, insisting that he stay with her in the ambulance? Would she remember not letting anyone else touch her, to the point of almost getting violent with the hospital staff? Would she remember insisting he collect her clothes for evidence and help her change into the gown? Would it all be lost when the drugs wore off? Maybe it would be better to not remember the attack, he wasn't sure. Would this moment, him holding her, comforting her, loving her, would this be lost too?

A soft tap on the hospital door let him know they were not going to be alone for long. Cullen stepped quietly in and came over to stand near Booth. A deep sigh escaped before he began, he spoke in low tones trying not to disturb her, "I am having Shaw handle the case. All the resources you need, whatever she needs." He was shaking his head almost in disbelief that this conversation was even happening, "I've told her that, Shaw, she has her orders. You, you just take care of your partner. I have told her to keep you in the loop on everything, Booth. Okay?" Booth nodded. "Until we know whether there is a connection to Dr. Brennan directly I wouldn't take her home, Booth, but you probably already figured that." His words were acknowledged by another nod from Booth.

"I need to make a phone call, Sir, can you sit with her?" he didn't want to leave Bones but he didn't want to take her home and have Hannah be there either. "Bones, I am going to just step across the room, okay? Director Cullen is right here, he is going to sit with you while I do that, okay?" she nodded, he stood, Cullen sat.

"Dr. Brennan, I am not sure I ever told you how much what you did for my daughter meant to me and my wife. You gave us a peace…" he continued to talk as Booth made his call, he promised to find whoever did this, to prosecute them. He tucked the heated blankets around her still trembling body like a father would his ailing daughter, like he had done with his own daughter. He told her that his wife was concerned for her and to let her know how much she cared for the woman who had taken up her daughters cause so vigilantly. He talked about how important she was to the Bureau how important he knew she was to Booth, about partnership, loyalty, law, justice. Justice was weighing heavily on his mind at the moment.

In the background he caught bits and pieces of Booth's conversation with Hannah. She was mad that he had left, mad that he told her that he had loved Brennan longer. He was in no mood, told her simply it was true, and that he realized tonight that it was the only truth that mattered. He apologized, told her to leave, that he needed the apartment clear to bring Bones home to recover, offered to pay for a hotel. She came with few bags; she would leave with few bags. What he didn't know, what she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing now, was that she had already packed, written a note, and left.

He was done.

Cullen handed Booth the keys and his gym bag from his truck. Booth took them and traded places with Cullen, who couldn't help but watch Dr. Brennan relax into Booth's touch and soft words letting her know he was back. She once again turned her body into Booth's as if she were hiding in him.

She had been very talkative while the drugs were still in her system but now as they wore off she talked less and less until she was silent.

He worried.

It wasn't long before the nurse came in with instructions and release papers. He woke her carefully and asked if she wanted the nurse to help her change. No, she was adamant; she only wanted Booth near her. He reached into his gym bag and pulled some sweats out. He carefully helped her off the bed, her unsteady legs failed her but he caught her steadying her balance by letting her hold onto him while he helped her into his sweat pants, then sweat shirt. He was so careful, worked so hard to keep her covered as best he could, to avert his eyes, to maintain her privacy as much as possible. He had no desire for this to be the way he saw her first. That should be intimate and mutual. He held her hand as they wheeled her to the ambulance entrance of the hospital where his SUV was waiting. He loaded her in, wrapped her in his jacket, reached over her, and blasted the heat. It was time to go home.

By the time he had moved around to the driver's side she had curled up in the seat with her head on the center consol. He carefully moved the hair from over her face and stroked her tender cheek as he drove. It wasn't until they stopped and he began to carry her up to his apartment that she realized he hadn't taken her to her apartment. She was weak and still quite confused, all she managed was, "Hannah," in a questioning tone. He kept it simple, "She's gone, it's just you and me. Is that okay, Bones?"

She nodded and then mustered her strength, "yes." She settled her head under Booth's chin and closed her eyes. He couldn't see them but quiet tears slid down her cheeks.


	2. Chapter 2

He closed his apartment door and locked it behind them leaning up against it for just a brief moment. What a long night. He heard her exhale, a deep long sigh. He felt her body relax in his arms. This was good, he thought, she feels safe here. He took her into his bedroom and sat on his bed, still holding her in his arms. His body wrapped around hers, sheltering, that is what she had called it back in that first year they were partners; she looked at his x-rays when he was in the hospital. She told him that his injuries indicated to her that he had been shielding someone when he was hit. Shielding, sheltering, protecting that's what he did, that was him from the time he was little, whether it was his mom or younger brother Jared or a fallen comrade in the army. He just wished he had been there shielding and protecting her earlier that night. He figured this night may end up being one of the bigger regrets of his life – if he had only been there before instead of after. They sat there, curled into one another for what seemed like forever, neither wanting to move.

Later, when she looked back on that night there really wasn't much that she remembered, feelings mostly with a few flashes of events rising to the surface now and then most horrific, some good. She remembered that he came for her when she called him, remembered that he stayed when she asked him to. She remembered feeling so safe when he was there, remembered his touch taking away the overwhelming fear and vulnerability she felt. She remembered the stark contrast between his gentle respectful touch as opposed to the harsh brutal hands of her attackers. She would never forget that.

He felt her start to stir; he loosened his arms around her to give her space. He never wanted her to feel trapped or forced. She seemed to be getting antsy, agitated. He knew she was coming out of the heavy fog that the drugs created. "You okay?" he talked softly.

"I feel…" she hesitated, shook her head like she was trying to shake that thought loose. "I just…" While she moved more on his lap, requiring more space in his arms, she clung more tightly to him than she had all night. She was by far the most well-spoken woman he knew, she always knew exactly what she thought and said exactly what she meant, sometimes to a fault. Seeing her reduced to mere syllables was hard for him. It made his heart ache for her, he could see in her eyes the frustration with her own condition was mounting. Frustration turned into panic, a wild look overtook her, she was pulling away. Then he felt her body start to heave, her frantic voice begged him to understand, "Booth," as she jerked herself from his lap towards the bathroom. He caught her as she stumbled and almost fell. Helped her, they barely made it to the toilet as she started to dry heave. Rubbing soft circles on her back, he held her hair back, then reached for something to wipe her mouth with. When she was done she pulled back to lean against his tub, breaking down into sobs.

Grabbing a cloth he wet it then sat down next to her, gently he started to wipe away the leftover evidence of a long horrible night. Appreciation filled her eyes. That was it, he had figured it out, she felt dirty with the filth of the alley, of her attackers' hands all over her body, of the struggle, even of sterile probing hands of the medical staff, all of it made her feel violated. It covered her, enveloped her. He was getting up to rinse the cloth out with fresh warm water when he heard her small voice, "will you help me, Booth, I _need_ to take a shower?" It was the most she had said to him at one time since the alley, certainly since she had started to regain her consciousness, he would have said yes to anything she asked for.

"Yeah, sure, Bones. Anything you need, I will do anything you need me to, Bones." He had no idea how he was going to do this and maintain any kind of modesty. He asked her if maybe she would prefer a woman to help her. Cam was in town. Angela and Hodgins were out of town on some family camping trip. He had tried to reach them to tell them what was going on but was pretty sure they had no cell service where they were. Their phones went straight to voicemail. She might have let Angela help her but Cam was a long shot and he knew it. A solid, "No," was her emphatic response to the Cam idea. "I just," she hesitated rolling her head back onto the outside edge of the tub, "I just, you, I just," she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, "I just feel safe with you right now, I don't want anyone but…"

He cut her off, "it's okay, Bones, it's okay you don't have to explain." He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her forehead, "you have me, all of me." Then he reassured her, "anything you need," he caught her eyes to make sure she saw the seriousness of his pledge as he sat down beside her. She nodded and leaned into him and he held her for a few minutes in silence then got up and turned on the shower water to heat up. "Are you going to be okay in here for a couple minutes?" she nodded a yes and he went to gather what was needed for a shower.

Holding an arm full of clothes and fresh towels he returned with a plan. He would have her change into a tank top and boxers to shower in and then back into sweats after the shower – he would wear his swimsuit which he already changed into in his bedroom while he was gathering the other supplies. Bones nodded in agreement and then reached to pull her sweatshirt off over her head. It was already up midriff when he grabbed her arms to stop her, "whoa, Bones, what are you doing?" he was frantically pulling the sweatshirt back down.

"They're just breast, Booth." She was too tired and worn out to deal patiently with his fixations.

"No, NO, they are not _just_ breasts, Bones," he held her face with his hand rubbing his thumbs softly back and forth on her cheeks. "Temperance, they are _not_ just breasts." He took a deep breath, "they are _your _breasts, a sacred part of _you_ and I respect you and…" he rubbed his hands over his face trying to find the right words to help her understand, "and I respect you and your body." She nodded _not_ in agreement but in understanding.

He wanted to tell her that he loved her, that he had been wrong about Hannah, that he had never loved Hannah like he did her. He didn't ever work to love Bones it just was there, an involuntary action, like breathing. He couldn't help but love her and even when he tried, like over the last several months, it seemed like even when he worked hard _not_ to love her he couldn't do it. He wanted to tell her that he knew that one day he would be with her, intimately, but that was obviously _not_ tonight. He wanted to tell her that he didn't want her to ever feel that he was like the men who attacked her, taking something from her that wasn't theirs to take. When that happened, and he hoped it would happen, he wanted it, their nakedness, their intimacy, to be mutual and romantic. But, tonight that would have been too much to say, too much to ask her to understand.

"Let me hold up this towel, okay? And you can change behind it." Did she roll her eyes? He could have sworn she rolled her eyes at him. Normally he might have been a little perturbed at her but tonight he was just happy to see that little spark of Bones come through. He held up the towel until we was done changing.

Standing he slid his arms under hers and helped her to her feet and into the warm shower. She turned into him and let her body rest against his completely as the water ran down her back and over her body. It felt wonderful. He ran his hands softly up and down her arms until she wrapped them around his body and held tight to him. His hands slid to her back. He was grateful for the shower, she would never know that somewhere mixed in the water running over her were the tears he had held back for her all night.

Reaching for the shampoo he asked if she wanted him to wash her hair. "My dad was a barber you know, I am practically a professional, you can ask Parker if you like," she smiled.

"Okay, hold on to me and lean your head back." He steadied her, "I won't let you fall, Bones, just relax." He carefully, massaged the shampoo into her hair trying to be watchful of the tender spots where her head had been hit. She winced a couple times letting him know he had found one of those spots. Then he helped her wash her arms and legs. This was working he thought, better than he had thought it would. Then she turned and leaned her back against his chest so she could wash the rest of herself.

It was all good until she started to wobble and he caught her, his arms wrapping around her bare stomach, his hands sliding across her soapy skin. His head fell to her shoulder. His face nuzzled in her hair, drawn into the crook of her neck. He fought to breath normally. She leaned back into him, her body completely stilled for a moment.

He was intoxicated by her. It felt so natural to be with her, to be hers. He could get used to this, he thought, then quickly tried to regain his composure. This was harder than when he had to collect her clothes for evidence, than holding her naked body steady while they processed the rape kit. That was more clinical, he had powered through that on adrenaline and purpose. This shower was really an extension of all the other procedures of the night he told himself. Though he was pretty sure it would have been easier for him to help her if they were in the colder, stark hospital shower than in his shower, in his apartment, the home to too many of his fantasies regarding this particular woman over the years. His body was having a hard time keeping this a clinical event in such an intimate setting. He was quickly losing the battle with his lower half for control. This was not the time for her to lean back against him and realize just how much being this close to her affected him. She didn't need that right now. Breathing exercises he learned as a sniper to lower his heart rate was his first line of defense. Reciting the names of all saints in his head his second while he steadied her as she washed and rinsed the rest of her body his hands firmly gripping her hips or wrapping around her waist, sliding back and forth as needed to hold her steady. Finally she turned back around and settled back into his chest pulling him close. After a few quiet minutes she whispered, "I am so tired, Booth, can we go to bed now." He had made it.

He helped her out, wrapped her in towels, dried as much water from her hair as he could and set her on the edge of his tub with dry clothes to change into, and then he held the towel up so she could change. When she was ready he asked if she thought she could walk into the bedroom if he helped her or if he needed him to carry her. She just had no strength left. He carried her to the bed he had turned down earlier when he was collecting the clothes and towels for the shower. Pulling the blankets up loosely around her he tucked a few stray bits of hair safely behind her ears, and then went to change himself. They were going to be okay, he thought, she would be okay. It would take some time but they would make it.

When he came back she was curled on her side facing the wall, he came around to tuck her in the blankets. This night had been like a mine field in many ways. He was always trying to figure out what she needed and wanted, trying to not be too close or too far away. Even now, did she want him right there with her like she had the rest of the night or should he take his pillows and sleep on the couch? She answered before he even had a chance to ask. "Stay here, please." He walked around the bed and climbed in. She rolled back taking his hand and wrapping his arm around her body. He scooted close to her drawing her tightly into his embrace. A soft deep exhale, a breath long held released, let him know that this was good, this was what she wanted


	3. Chapter 3

A/N thank you so much for all the support, reviews, follows, and favorites they mean the world to me :) turns out there is a whole new world outside my comfort zone I didn't even know existed!

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He couldn't sleep, his mind raced through the night from beginning to end and back again, over and over. Worries that if he did sleep he would fall too deeply kept all his senses in overdrive, fighting to be aware. And he was aware of her every breath and movement, the slightest motion or sound. He swore he could feel her thinking, he held her tighter trying to quiet himself. Willing himself to quiet the fear that he would miss something she needed. Willing himself to relax, knowing that if he was tense it would be harder for her to relax. Holding her, letting his body wrap around hers tightly, protectively, seemed like the only thing he could do now. Yet, it still didn't seem like enough.

She lay quietly in his arms. Her mind was no less active than his. Just like she could feel him think she was sure he could feel her. Then his large strong hand stretched out the palm of her hand. He began to rub slow gentle circles in the center of her palm. Rhythmic, constant, she felt herself start to get lost in those circles. Her body yielding to a force finally stronger than everything else the night had given her. It was Booth, she was yielding to his touch, his care, his . . . she hesitated at the thought of his love, but that is what it was that she felt, it had to be what was rolling off of him, what he was transferring to her in those small constant circles. She relaxed into him and finally he could relax into her.

He thought she was settling back restfully when he heard her sleepy voice break the silence, "Booth," she hesitated, "did you really love me?"

He never missed a beat, she felt his fingers continue their soft journey around her palm, "Yes, I have always loved you."

There was a long span of silence and then, "but how could you have loved me when we first met, you didn't know me?"

"I just did, Bones. I just always have since I saw you teaching that class." Still spooning, his words blew softly across her cheek, it almost tickled as he talked. There was a long pause. He waited for her to respond. It was a bold move on his part to be so honest, but he was tired and past hiding, he needed her to know, regardless of where it led them.

"And now?"

"Now? I love you more because I know you, because of all the things we have been through together." He took a deep breath, "I have found that I can't help but love you, even when I have tried not to." She understood what he was referring to and nodded.

"And Hannah is gone…" she hesitated, "You broke up with her?"

"I did."

"And you loved her too?" he could hear the confusion in her voice. Her question clearly came from an honest place. She was trying to understand something that was hard for her to understand, something she never really wanted to understand, emotions and relationships. Understanding them would put her too close to that line of vulnerability that she had been so carefully avoiding for so long.

"Not the same way that I love you," Booth's heart was pounding now so loudly it seemed to be taking over all his other senses. He couldn't help but wonder if she could hear it pound as loudly as he could. It was not lost on him how important this conversation was. The silence, the long breaks between her questions were disconcerting, they left him wondering what she was thinking, how she was processing what he said. She had a way of taking in information and processing it differently than anyone he knew. Many times he wondered how she came to the conclusions she came to from the information he gave her and had to go back over things to straighten out her thought process, especially where emotions and relationships were concerned.

"You love me…" there was a long pause and deep breath, "now?"

"Yes, right now and yesterday and tomorrow." He offered it all to her in the most truthful simple way he could.

Her breathing became awkward. He could tell she was struggling to hold back tears though he was pretty sure she would deny it if he asked. So he didn't ask, for the first time since before the conversation began he stopped the rhythmic circles that had been anchoring them. He carefully turned her so she was facing him; there they were a few stray tears working their way down her cheeks. He wiped them away and swept her hair from her face. Then lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes, "You are the one I love the most, Temperance. I'm not going to try and run from that anymore or pretend that anyone but you will work for me. I will be here for you as much as you will let me be, as a friend or more than a friend. I will wait as long as I have to until you are ready." He kissed her forehead so softly she barely felt his lips touch her skin.

She pulled herself into his chest and held on. This overwhelming feeling was safety, she thought, something she vaguely remembered from her early childhood with her parents. Something she had rarely felt since they left. Something she felt only with Booth, for the most part. This was the reason, although she couldn't have articulated it to save her life, that he was the one she called. It was the reason that he was the only one she would let near her or to touch her after such a traumatic experience. She knew it was hard on him, what she asked him to do for her, but she knew he would do it and that he would protect her above all else. "Thank you, Booth," was the last thing she said. It wasn't long before he felt her body relax into his completely. She slept, he followed her.


	4. Chapter 4

It was the ring of the cell phone that startled him. He grabbed it as fast as he could, he didn't want to wake her, she needed all the sleep she could get. "Booth," he sounded groggy but Shaw knew he'd had a long night. She asked if he wanted an update or wanted to call back. Seemed like a ridiculous question, of course he wanted the update. The blood work confirmed she had been drugged, that wasn't a surprise to him, he had recognized the signs immediately. It indicated that she wasn't previously pregnant; he had assumed that, so far no new information. They needed to know when she had been sexually active last, to rule out any consensual encounters. He would have to find that out, she had been too out of it to answer that question in the emergency room. Several hair samples were found and the clippings and scraping from under her fingernails also yielded results. She had gotten a piece of the bastards, which was satisfying. They were running the DNA through CODIS to see if there were any existing matches. They had found semen on some of the swabs done on different parts of her body – they were still waiting for the vaginal results. Those last ones pushed him over the edge. He had received reports on cases like these a million times but they were never reports on someone he loved. It was similar information, conveyed a million times to him in a similar way and yet completely different, evoking a nearly uncontrollable response.

Shaw promised to call when they knew more, he promised to call with the information she needed as soon as Bones woke up and he could ask her. After hanging up he just laid there for a few minutes trying to breathe normally. He wrapped his arms back around her.

It was hard to control the anger rising up within him. Then, as if responding to his body tensing, he felt her hand gently rubbing across the skin of his bare chest. Sometime during the night her hand must have snaked its way under his t-shirt, he hadn't noticed until this moment. He took a breath, a deep breath, to calm himself, the rage he felt towards the men who did this to her was practically tangible. Her hand rolled softly back and forth. She always responded to his needs, seemed like consciously or subconsciously, she always knew. He had thought a lot about this lately. It had been over a year now since they stood on the steps of the Hoover, he declared his love for her, and she balked. "I don't have your kind of open heart." Those words had tumbled over and over in his mind, poked at his conscious, because the truth was he knew she did have an open and loving heart, he just had no way to prove it to her. To him, this was proof, her innate response to his need. He lay there just feeling it, her hand moving softly over his chest, his heart rate slowed, his body relaxed, his breathing became even again. His mind went to what seemed like millions of examples, a soft touch, a reprimand regarding his health or safety, her anger at the thought of his loss; they were all acts of love. She just didn't understand love, she didn't know that her heart was already open and loving him all along.

His hand joined her rhythm, sliding up and down her back. In the darkness, the silence of his room, they lay there comforting each other.

She broke the silence, "Booth, are you going to tell me what she said?"

He didn't respond immediately even though he knew the answer would be yes, had to be yes because she would insist on knowing every little detail, every result. But the very thought of her looking over this file, her file, turned his stomach. If he could wipe this night from her memory he would. She on the other had would be plagued by the dark spots and missing details. He knew her, knew they would eat at her until she could fill them in. Knowing them would give her back some sense of control.

A long deep sigh escaped, "you should try and sleep a little longer, Bones, your body needs the rest."

"Booth," her voice pleaded with him, "I need to know."

"I know you do," he squeezed her tightly because he knew what she couldn't remember and the thought of telling her hurt him so deeply, "I understand, but let's get some more rest and then I will make you some pancakes and tell you what I can."

She was silent for just a few moments, "Booth," in almost a questioning tone, "it's almost 10." Her implication was clear, she didn't want to try and sleep anymore.

"I know, but we just went to bed a couple of hours ago. What's the point of black out curtains if you don't sleep during the day occasionally?" She wasn't going to fall for it, she was awake. He conceded, "Okay, pancakes now, nap later, agreed?"

"And you'll share the information with me; tell me everything you know?"

This was a nightmare, the worst kind, the kind you never wake up from. He nodded in agreement, too overwhelmed by the graphic flashes from last night running through his mind to speak.

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She pushed the pancake around her plate, took little bites here and there, nibbled on some fruit. Booth was watching her closely as he sat across from her with his food. Her lip was swollen and split, it looked painful, like it was about to split open again. He stood, walked over to the cabinet, and pulled down a first aid box. His finger dabbed the ointment carefully on her lip and then spread it in one soft move. She looked up at him, his understanding eyes, they seemed to suffer for her, no, maybe with her. She didn't feel so alone with Booth there. He gave her a little smile and a peck on the forehead. She broke the silence.

"I ate." She squared her shoulders, ready for an argument. His eyebrow shot up in response as he looked at her plate, barely touched. "I'm not very hungry." she sounded a little defensive. "Can we talk about last night now?"

"Sure, Bones, we can talk. Let's go into the living room, okay? I have some medication they gave you at the hospital last night. You go ahead; I am going to grab it and a glass of water for you." She nodded and got up.

He gathered it all together and followed. She was curled up in the corner of his couch when he came in. She unfolded and scooted towards the middle of the couch staring down the multiple bottles, a small package, and glass of water.

"I hope I can remember what they're all for," he nodded towards the table. In reality he knew he could remember what they were all for but he wanted to give her the chance to reclaim a little of herself and tell him about each drug. This is what she did; she had lost enough he wouldn't take anything else away from her if he didn't have to.

A deep breath, a nod, and she grabbed the first couple bottles.

"I won't take these, Booth, these are pain killers," she set one of the bottles aside, "and this is for sleeping, and this is for anxiety. I _won't_ take them." She was emphatic, staring him down, almost daring him to tell her she had to.

"I won't make you," he looked at her with acceptance. "They offered them and I told them yes just in case you needed them. But I _won't_ make you take them, Bones. You don't have to take any of these if you don't want to."

"Well, that is not true, Booth, I don't want to take any of these but it would be irresponsible for me to not take these broad spectrum antibiotics," her voice cracked, it was higher than normal and strained, she was struggling to maintain control. "I may have been exposed to any number of STDs." She opened a bottle pouring the contents out into her hand, "Ceftriaxone 125 mg, one large single dose," opened another bottle and did the same, "Metronidazole another large single dose," she picked up another bottle but her hands had started shaking. Booth reached out offering to help, nodding at her, she accepted and handed him the bottle. "Doxycycline 100 mg I need one of those orally twice a day for 7 days." He placed it carefully in her hand, he could feel her tremble, he steadied her hand holding his beneath hers, and looked up at her. She pulled her hand away bringing the pills ceremonially to her mouth and popped them all in at once, then reached for the water.

With no hesitation she reached for the last packet on the table but her hands were shaking too violently to push the pill from its foil package, she fumbled with it, her frustration visible. Booth silently took it from her, opened it, and placed the contents in the palm of her hand. They both knew what this one was for, neither said a word. And when she had swallowed it he pulled her into his arms and whispered in her ear, "I am so sorry, Bones, so sorry you're going through this."

He held her.

Eventually she slid down, lying on his couch with her head in his lap. He pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and covered her, tucking it carefully around her. Gently he moved her hair out of her face, stroking her cheek rhythmically, softly, with the back of his hand. She felt safe and warm. He was flipped channels, catching up on sports news, she napped. They would talk later.

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A/N Thank you to everyone for continuing to read and comment :) Like in life I imagine that getting through the first couple days after a life altering trauma (or in this case first several chapters) is hard at best. So many new realities have to be faced as well as all the emotions they bring up. Next chapter I promise they have the hard conversation about what happened the night before, what she remembered.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N sorry this is later in the day than I had planned on posting this chapter...long crappy day which promised to only get better now :) Let me know what you think...please...

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It wasn't long before they were both sleeping, her head still on his lap. He had slouched down, his neck and head supported by the back of the couch. One hand propped up on the arm, still held the TV remote loosely. The other had fallen to her hip and eventually slid down to rest on her slender waist. It wasn't until he woke that he realized his hand had slipped under the over sized sweat shirt she was still wearing, it rested on the soft skin of her stomach. His mind wandered as his thumb moved softly back and forth. Under any other circumstances this type of lazy afternoon nap together would have been classified as perfect, on his list of Bones fantasies for years but these weren't those kind of circumstances. She moved under his touch, it startled him; she turned her body and blinked sleepily at him, holding his hand in place when he tried to pull it away.

"No," simply stated, "please." then closed her eyes again.

He turned off the TV and set the remote aside, looking down at her. She looked so peaceful, too peaceful for the conversation he knew they had to have. It's not that he wanted to discuss the events of last night – he didn't _want_ to but he knew he _had _to and that she _needed_ him to so he would. Carefully he moved each little stray piece of hair away from her face with his free hand, stroking her gently, tracing and cataloging the bruises and scrapes left by her attackers. His jaw pulsed with the need to find justice for her. In the end that would be what gave him strength to have the tough conversations, to get the information he needed for Shaw and the team to work her case. He loved her and his love stirred his sense of right and wrong, his need to protect. It fueled his sense of justice. It strengthened his resolve. It pushed him forward.

"Bones," it was almost a whisper, a pained exhale. He didn't want to wake her if she had fallen back asleep. "Bones, I think it's about time to have that talk now." He let out a heavy sigh.

"I know," she still hadn't opened her eyes. Lying there, she soaked up his gentle touch, "I know. Can we just stay like this?"

"Yeah, Bones, of course, whatever you want, whatever you need. You know you don't have to talk to me if you would be more comfortable…" he hesitated, "talking to another woman…" he continued to trace gentle patterns softly stroking her hair.

Tensing she cut him off, "No," there was an element of desperation in her voice that literally broke his heart. He would walk to the ends of the Earth for this woman, would lay down his life for her, or as this situation demanded ask her the most intimate of questions and listen as she recounted her horrific experience. "I told you I don't want to talk to anyone else. Just you," her voice trailed off, "just you." She nodded as he assured her that he wouldn't make her talk to anyone else. She pressed his hand more firmly to her body, "I…" she was struggling for words. She didn't know how to tell him that he made her feel safe. She was strong and independent and had worked hard to not need or rely on anyone except herself. She prided herself on it. But, somewhere in the last seven years something happened, somewhere she realized that Booth was safe. Safe beyond just a physical type of safety, safe in a way that she couldn't understand much less describe or fit into the words. But she knew it, she felt it, and right now she clung to it. She clung to him, to his hand, to her place on his lap, to his gentle strokes of her hair and face.

Looking into her eyes, so stormy and struggling, "Temperance," it was a soft whisper. Then he saw her do it – this thing she did when she was about to face something down, something hard or uncomfortable, something that took all her courage and then some. While he couldn't see her square her shoulders because she was still laying with her head on his lap he saw the shift in her eyes. He saw the shift and he knew they would get through this. They would make it through like so many other things they had been through, together.

"I was supposed to meet a colleague for drinks, Dr. Ian Chambers. I haven't seen him for a couple of years. He was in town for a conference." He watched her carefully as she spoke, she had closed her eyes again. It looked forced to him, like she was watching the events unfold in her mind and if she opened her eyes it would stop or disappear. "He called me a few days ago. He wanted to go out for dinner but I didn't feel comfortable with that arrangement. We have had several encounters over the years. I didn't want to encourage him by accepting a dinner invitation."

"Encounters?" his eyebrows raised, did she mean they had a relationship? She had her own relationship language that created distance, never attachment. It was confusing at best. "I am going to need to give his name and contact information for Shaw, Bones."

"Okay, I have it. It never materialized into anything, Booth. He always has to be right, always has to have control. He's arrogant. Point is, we compromised by agreeing to have drinks together. That is all we were supposed to do last night, meet for drinks." She told him the details of when and where they were planning to meet. Recounting the events of the evening, getting to the bar early, getting a table and waiting, how he never showed up. That had been the easy part. The superfluous details of the night were easy to recount. "Then I waited and he never came. I was about the leave when a man asked if he could sit at my table, the bar was crowded, he seemed professional, nice, I said yes." He could see the subtle changes in her expressions the farther into the night she got. "I was trying to reach Ian to see if he was just running late, the bar was noisy and crowded, someone knocked my purse to the floor and I was trying to pick the items up that fell out as I was leaving a message." He could see her mind put it all together, see it all snap into place for her. The distraction of her knocked over purse took her attention away from her drink.

She gasped, "Booth, it was my fault. Booth, I know better. I should have seen," There was a growing level of distress in her voice.

"No, No, Bones, you've got that all wrong. This was definitely not your fault. You know that. You've seen it, we've worked cases like it – don't blame yourself. You can't let yourself think that it's your fault you have to fight that urge." He brought her back to the solid ground searching for facts, she fetl safer with facts, "the guy at the bar, do you remember his name?" She was good with facts.

"Michael, his name was Michael. Booth, I know better, I knew better. Michael just seemed so…" she couldn't even finish the thought. "I started to feel queasy and dizzy. I told him I needed to leave, I was excusing myself. He just seemed so helpful. He suggested just getting some fresh air out back." He could feel her heart rate climb steadily though she worked so hard to disguise her growing distress in her outward demeanor. He could see the pulse pounding along her neck, her chest rise and fall quickly with each shallow breath. "I was just so dizzy. The cool air outside felt good at first but I felt worse. There were several men…" she stopped, took a deep breath, "outside; there were several men outside already. I stumbled," her eyes flew open wide as if now she was trying to stop the images that were filling her, "I was falling, there were hands coming at me from everywhere, just so many hands. I couldn't get away from them. I was so scared. I kept turning and pulling away, trying to get away, I tried to fight, Booth, I tried."

"You were drugged, Temperance, and you _did_ fight." His strong tender voice was reaching out to her, trying to make this somehow better than it was or ever could be.

"Booth," a look of utter despair filled those beautiful blue eyes, despair and panic, like she was back there in the alley, like it was happening all over again. "Booth, they were touching me, they wouldn't stop touching me. I couldn't make them stop touching me." He caught the tears as they fell silently down her cheeks, wiping them away. Her eyes burned from crying. Pulling her up into his arms, he held her as tightly as he could.

"You did fight, Bones. You did everything you could. You fought hard, and you got a piece of them too. They got DNA from the under your fingernails, usable DNA, they're running it now. You're strong, Bones, you're a fighter. You always have been, always will be." She nodded into his chest.

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and steadied himself for the questions he had to ask, "Do you remember any faces, any distinctive marks, any features?" Making her relive it, think about it, talk about, he felt like he was torturing her. They were moving through it though and they were through the worst part of it. The farther they got away from the emotion of the event, the more objective and scientific she could be, the more she seemed to feel some sense of control. She gave him every detail she could remember classifying them into clear memories and those she was not sure of. By the time he had to ask her about her recent sex life her mood was better, her demeanor more confident. They were sitting facing each other on the couch, her hands rested in his comfortably as he played with her fingers.

She could sense his discomfort, "Booth, you know that I have no problem sharing the details of my sex life with you. It is you that has the problem with those questions, not me."

He smiled, it was the first time in this conversation that things felt like they were back on familiar ground, they felt like them. There was the hint of something in her eye he couldn't identify, a comfortable familiarity to his awkwardness on this subject. He couldn't help but chuckle a little, she was right. The subject had always been more uncomfortable for him than her. "I am not a prude," He winked and gave her a tiny bit of his charming smile. He loved the feel of her hands in his. He was almost carried away by it. "You, know those old bones you have on display in your office?"

She nodded. "Why do you have them in that display case?" She was confused by the sudden switch in subject but started to explain the effect of air and temperature on the old remains in typical Dr. Temperance Brennan fashion. He smiled and added, "So they need to be protected? They are important, special, a treasure, and they need to be protected." She nodded in agreement, she understood, he was about to draw a comparison. He reached up tenderly and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, swooped her bangs across her face. Her eyes closed slowly taking in the gentleness of his touch.

"Sex, is sex I suppose but when you make love to someone that kind of intimacy is…almost…" pausing briefly, searching for the right word, "sacred between two people. I just think it should be kind of like your mummy, taken care of like a treasure. Protected, as something only those two people share together." Her eyes hadn't left his.

"Really," he drew the word out for emphasis, "I'm _not_ a prude, I promise." she smiled at him, "besides, I have yet to have met any man that you've slept with that was worthy of your affection, not one of them. You're special, Bones."

She marveled that in the midst of all this he could still find her special.

There was calm that came over the both of them as she considered it all, a quiet pause. Unexpectedly she leaned forward and lightly kissed his cheek, "Thank you, Booth." Her lips lingered for just a moment.

Then she sat back, "I haven't been with anyone, not since long before Maluku." His eyes snapped to hers. He knew she had dated Hacker a couple of times after their talk on the steps of the Hoover. He'd assumed there had been men since then.

Consciously or unconsciously he found his hand up by the side of her face, his thumb lightly tracing the lips that had just seconds ago had been resting on his cheek. She leaned into his palm, closing her eyes. She had always been and would always be amazing to him.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N thank you so much for all the wonderful comments and support - I am overwhelmed by how much love has been expressed for this story!

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Booth's voice was low. He was talking on the phone when she came around the corner holding a pillow from his bed. They were going to watch a movie.

"No, Ange, of course Hannah's gone, I wouldn't bring her here if Hannah was still here." He was listening to Angela now. She couldn't make out was Angela was saying but could hear the emphatic tone in her voice.

"No, she's not coming back. I broke up with her," it sounded so high school - broke up with her - but he was so tired and this was the clearest way to make his point. "I told her to leave." Their eyes met as Bones came to sit on the couch with him, she looked hesitant. He opened up his arm to her beckoning her to come sit close to him. She opted to sit at the opposite end of the couch clearly leery of the conversation he was having with Angela. Her head tilted, eyes drilling him, warning him to watch what he said about her.

"No, Max is out of town, he's trying to get here."

"She's," what was he supposed to say, he wanted to say that he had never seen her so hurt, so scared, so not herself. "She's recovering; she was pretty beat up, Ange."

"I know you want to see her," Bones started shaking her head almost violently, no, her eyes begging him not to invite them over. She pleaded silently with him mouthing the words, "just one more day." He could see the tears welling up in her eyes. "You know, Ange, why don't you guys stop by her apartment and pack her a bag. She's going to be here a few days at least and I don't think we're going to make it over there today." He was watching her carefully. "Yeah, anything you think she might need or want for the next couple days."

Angela wanted more but that is all he was going to give her with Bones sitting right there on the couch with him. He didn't want to excuse himself from the room to talk to her best friend behind her back, he wouldn't. Besides there were other avenues for Angela to get the details she wanted – they both knew that. She promised to call when they were on their way over from Bren's apartment. He hung up the phone. Bones looked away from him.

His voice was kind and patient, at the moment that just made her even angrier. "Hear me out okay, Bones? She's your best friend and she's worried sick about you. She just _needs_ to see you to know that you're okay. I won't let them stay long, I promise. And if you don't want to see Hodgins then you can go into my room and I'll keep him out here."

She looked back at him; he hated the defeated look that kept creeping into her eyes. She looked so hurt. He put his arm out again, motioned with his head inviting her to come close to him. This time she took the invitation, curling her body up under his arm. He pulled her in tighter.

It took a while but she eventually spoke, "I hate that anyone would see me like this. I hate the look of pity people get in their eyes. I hate feeling this way. This is not who I am."

"It's not pity, Bones," he was rubbing her arm softly, "What you see in their eyes is love, they care about you, about what happened to you. They wish they could make it different, change it, make it better. They're mad at the people who did this to you, to the strong wonderful woman they love. " It was the truth, at the very least it was his truth and he needed her to know it.

She nodded, letting out a breath she had been holding.

"And you know what? I think when Angela gets here you will be happier to see her than you thought you would be. I think you'll be glad you let her come over. You know she loves you, she loves you and just wants to be there for you."

She let out another exasperated breath, "She is going to make a big deal over it."

"Bones, it is a big deal." He held her tighter; she thought she heard his voice crack, "a very big deal." He kissed her gently on the top of her head.

Next was a call from Shaw, then Cam, a call from Cullen checking up on them. It seemed like to phone wouldn't stop ringing. Somewhere in there he ordered pizza for them for dinner. A couple times he excused himself and took the call just out of earshot but where she could still see him. She knew those calls were about her case. Max called, but she refused to talk to him. She couldn't handle talking about it yet, especially over the phone. Booth told him she was asleep. By the time that Angela called to tell Booth they were on their way over they had eaten and she was sleeping on the couch curled up in Booth's arms. He told Angela where to find the spare key and to let themselves in quietly.

The apartment was almost completely dark when they came in. One low light in the kitchen and a couple dim lights in the living room were the only lights on in the house. Angela tried to stay her reaction but when she saw the swelling and bruising on Bren's face, her scabbed lip and the couple of spots with butterfly bandages on her face she almost lost it. She came and sat on the coffee table in front of Booth. He saw reflected in Angela's eyes what he thought others must see in his; a strange mixture of sorrow, compassion, love, and rage. She couldn't take her eyes off of Bren who was still sleeping in Booth's arms.

"Booth, really how is she?" even with Bones sleeping it was a question he didn't really want to answer or know how to answer it for that matter.

"They really messed her up, Ange," his pain and anger were evident; "she's not herself."

She could barely answer, just nod and try and maintain control, worry consuming her features. Hodgins could feel her need and moved to stand behind her – his hand moving softly on her back offering support and strength.

"She didn't want to see me did she?"

"Angela," he really didn't want to be called on that and it came across in the simple way he said her name.

Bones started to stir. Angela and Hodgins watched as Booth talked softly to her, reminding her where she was. Patiently he was reassuring her that he was there with her, for her. Making sure she knew that Angela was there also, to see her.

She turned her face into Booth's chest.

"Hey, Sweetie," Angela was talking calmly, her sweet voice was a comfort, "Hey, I know you aren't really up for visitors but I just wanted to tell you I love you." Angela brushed back some of her hair and smoothed it down her back. She could feel Bren tense just a bit and then relax under her touch.

Booth and Hodgins' eyes met for the first time that evening –there was a brotherhood between them despite the many differences in the two men. Both loved so deeply, so unconditionally, these amazing women. They would do anything for them, they were their world.

"I brought you some things from your apartment." Angela swallowed hard pushing down a wave of emotion that was threatening to overtake her. "Can I give you a hug?"

Bren let go of Booth long enough to fall into the arms of her longtime friend. The two women sobbed.


	7. Chapter 7

The next several of days were very quiet. He honored her desire to not see or talk to anyone. It wasn't hard to dodge people he just told them she was sleeping and that he didn't want to disturb her rest. It was true for the most part. She slept on and off all day and night, curled up in his arms on the couch or in his bed. It seemed that she couldn't get into deep sleep without nightmares accosting her. When she was awake she was quiet – intolerably quiet. He could almost see her mind working, processing. He hated the far off look in her eyes but he knew her well enough to know it was a part of her process. She always got so quiet when she was trying to make sense of things, it was one of her tells. It was a sure sign that things weren't right in her world. He tried to draw her out in conversation but for the most part he just let her be quiet. Still making a plea every once in a while for her to talk to him, reminding her that he was there for her when she was ready to talk.

She seemed to be getting stronger, the swelling was going down, bruises already starting to yellow and fade.

The case was coming along though it seemed like every test, every inquiry, every interview took longer than normal. On some very real level it felt like it had been months not days. He suddenly had a new empathy for victims' families who called incessantly for updates. He had always had compassion for them but now he had a new understanding of their frustration and need. He vowed to himself to keep them better updated, more consistently informed.

Max had called almost daily but wasn't in town yet. It took a few tries but Bones had finally started talking to him. It was hard. She would downplay the situation trying to keep him from worrying but he knew. He could hear the gravity in his daughter's voice, in everything she wouldn't say, in all her hollow reassurances. "I'll be there soon, Tempe, just a few more things to take of care of then I can come." She assured him that Booth was taking good care of her, she would be fine.

Really, Booth was torn over the delay. On one hand he was concerned that Max wouldn't be able to resist exacting some revenge, not that he could blame him. He worried about what it would do to Bones if her dad got tangled up in the middle of the case or ended up back in jail because of it. On the other hand he worried that his delay was taking a toll on her, making her feel abandoned all over again, unimportant. She never indicated either way what she felt about his absence, truth be told, that worried him most.

In the meantime he held her when she needed holding, gave her space when she wanted some time alone and sat close when she wanted some space but needed the security of his presence. He cleaned and dressed her wounds and hoped that somehow what he was doing for her would help heal her emotional wounds as well as her physical ones. He woke her gently from nightmares. He was always on some level of alert even when he slept. He was sensitive to every noise and movement she made. So he was quite surprised when he woke and she wasn't in bed. In fact, he was more than surprised he was almost panicked, jolting from bed and calling out to her.

"I'm here, Booth, I'm fine," her voice didn't sound fine but knowing where she was calmed him. It was still dark out as he stumbled through the house towards her voice. He came up behind her cooking breakfast it took everything in him not to wrap his arms around her from behind and snuggle into her. He realized that over the past days he had become accustomed to the feel of her in his arms and especially under the circumstances he felt her absence profoundly. But he knew she needed to control their contact, she needed to set that pace. Pausing behind her briefly, he turned and leaned up against the counter.

"What are you doing?" his voice was still groggy from sleep, he rubbed his hands over his face, still adjusting to being up.

"Cooking breakfast, do you want coffee, the coffee is ready," she seemed anxious to him, intensity rolling off of her.

"Thanks, Bones, coffee sounds good," as he was pouring his coffee he tried to casually ask how she was feeling. She wasn't relaxed that was for sure. She was practically attacking breakfast as she cooked it. He had watched her cook before, she was never this aggressive. His eyebrows rose as he sipped his coffee.

"I'm fine, Booth, It's just I should go back to work," she sounded nervous but insistent, "I am already very behind."

He nodded. He understood, probably more than she did, she just needed life to get back to normal, to find her way through this mess.

She had paused in the middle of her thought letting out a deep sigh, "I am behind, Booth, from the last several days," he could almost see the last several days flashing through her mind as she paused to breath, "I don't want to get any farther behind. I need to catch up."

"Bones," his voice was tender, "are you sure about that? Maybe you should ease back into things."

She was moving more frantically

"Hey, hey," he whispered, moving to rest his hand on her arm – her body jerked at his touch.

"No, I need to go back now," her voice was low, intense, and firm. She wouldn't look at him just stared straight down into the skillet of now well scrambled eggs.

He moved across the room silently with his coffee in hand and leaned against the doorway that led from his kitchen to his living room trying to give her the space he thought she wanted.

She turned in a flash and before she could catch herself asked where he was going. The aroma of over cooked eggs started to fill the air, sulfur. She kept methodically stirring and flipping them over and over. He watched quietly for a few moments.

His voice was soft and reassuring, "I'm not going anywhere, Bones, I'm right here." She was like a child wanting independence and security all at once – in desperate need of both. He needed a figure out a way to give her both. He stood there sipping his coffee and rubbing the back of his neck with one hand for a moment. "Okay, well, Bones, you may be ready to head back to work but I am not ready to let you," she started to protest. "Wait, wait just let me finish, I'm not really ready to let you go too far out of my sight yet." Even if she wouldn't admit it he knew that she needed to have him close and feel protected just as much as he need to know he was close enough to protect her. "You haven't been out for a few days so what if we ran some errands this morning maybe pick up your dry cleaning and get some things from your apartment and then get some lunch at the diner. Then maybe we can drop the Jeffersonian."

"No," he saw a look of panic wash over her face. "No, I just want to go the Jeffersonian. I want to go early. I want to go straight to Limbo, just me. I don't want to see anyone." Her eyes were fixed on the skillet, stirring and flipping.

"Okay, Bones, I'll take you to Limbo, but, I stay with you, okay?"

She looked down at the eggs that she had been cooking, "these aren't right, Booth." She took the pan emptying the contents into the garbage, turned and set the skillet in the sink. She looked him square in the eye, "Thank you, I'll go get ready." She brushed past him quickly. He looked down at the eggs in the trash can, sighed, and turned going to get ready himself.

The sun was barely coming up when they pulled into the Jeffersonian parking garage. The drive had been long. She stared out the window watching the city pass by; he tried to make small talk the conversations dying quickly and quietly. He hoped this would be what she needed to find her equilibrium again, he wanted that for her but he wasn't sure about his decision. As he pulled to a stop he looked over at her. She had put on makeup today, covering what she could of the bruises. She had carefully done her hair. She'd picked the most professional clothes from the assortment that Angela had brought her. He watched as she sat up straight and squared her shoulders, took a deep breath. All acts of confidence but her eyes betrayed her. He wished more than anything he could take this from her – erase it. He wanted desperately to tell her she didn't have to do this yet, that it could wait. But he knew she did have to do it and waiting would probably only make it worse. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it in support; she nodded and reached for the door handle. She was a shell of the woman he knew and loved going through the motions of being herself. Hidden somewhere deep inside he knew was the fiery Temperance Brennan, he missed her. He had a feeling that Bones missed her too.

With the exception of security the Jeffersonian was pretty much empty. Cold, still dark, sterile everything she remembered and loved about it, everything that made it home, secure, constant, firm. She made a beeline for her office nodding and giving the briefest hellos to those she crossed paths with. He wondered how many knew what was going on with the famous Dr. Brennan and made a mental note to find out. Everything had been handled discreetly and confidentially as far as he knew. He hung back behind her watching her intently as she unlocked her office door and let routine fill her up and carry her through the motions of what could have been any day. Sliding her laptop bag off her shoulder she set it next to the leg of her desk. He helped her off with her coat, she promptly took it from him and hung it on the coat rack. Turning she sat in her office chair, settling, trying to find a comfortable position. Her fingers slid lightly over a stack of mail, her blotter, her computer keyboard, all were so familiar and up until a few days ago part of her morning routine. She looked at Booth, those eyes. They screamed at him while her body was silent and stoic.

There was a faint tap on her office door that startled them both. She jumped, "Micah." There was a sense of relief in her voice and in her expression of his name, a familiarity and comfort.

"Sorry, Doc, I didn't mean to scare you," there was always a gentle calmness about Micah. "These came yesterday. They've been holding them in the security office for you." She smiled.

Booth bristled.

"Micah, this is my partner Special Agent Booth with the FBI." She motioned for him to bring the flowers in to her but Booth intercepted them.

"It's nice to meet you, Micah, Bones speaks highly of you. I'll take those for you." Micah looked at her, she nodded her approval, he handed them over to Booth.

"Take care, Doc," Micah smiled and left quietly.

They had worked feverishly hard at keeping the rape out of the press, hardly anyone knew about it, all of them were either sworn to secrecy or were her close friends. Booth's first concern was who would be sending flowers and why. There was a card standing tall in the center of the arrangement. He set the flowers down on the coffee table in front of her couch and grabbed a pair of gloves. His obvious concern left her nervous, anxious.

"Do you mind, Bones?" he motioned toward the card.

She was silent, moving over the join Booth by the flowers as he opened the card.

"Tempe, I missed our date at the Science Club. My priorities changed at the last minute which necessitated a change of plans. I ended up not attending my conference there in D.C. I'm sure you understand. Enjoy the flowers. I will contact you when I am headed your way again. - Dr. Ian Chambers."

Booth slipped the card into an evidence bag and sealed it. She was confused. "Why did you do that, Booth? I thought they cleared Ian."

"Well, they didn't exactly clear him, Bones. I mean the card fits with what he told Shaw, that he never came to D.C., but he was alone all weekend with no one to corroborate that. I don't know, we'll call it a gut feeling and until I have Shaw do some more digging I'd rather log it into evidence. I think you're right though, the guy does sound like an arrogant SOB."

He walked across the lab and grabbed her lab coat, waggling it a little in the air. This was her; he held it up as she slipped her arms in and settled her body. A smile washed across his face as he reached along both sides of her slender neck and pulled her hair from underneath the lab coat. It wasn't the time but he wished he could just tell her how much he loved her, he hoped she saw it in his eyes, felt it in his touch. He hoped her heart knew what he couldn't tell her. It didn't seem reasonable to say he missed her, especially since he was spending literally every waking hour with her. But he did miss her, the part of her that had been knocked to its knees by this whole experience. The part of her he hoped she'd find by putting back on her lab coat and getting back to the things that were elemental for her.

She reached into the pocket of her lab coat and pulled out a hair tie – it was time for a pony tail. He smiled, then followed her out of her office and down to bone storage. Limbo, somehow today it seemed like a very appropriately named place to be.

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A/N Happy Labor Day! I wanted to thank everyone again for the beautiful and helpful reviews! I am sorry I haven't answered them all - my parents recently had to move into assisted living and we have been cleaning out the family home of almost 40 years! thanks for the patience! My husband is very excited about the next chapter...you can thank him for my posting so often - he wants me to get the next one up so he can hear the reaction LOL


	8. Chapter 8

He sat on the stairs and watched as she meticulously pulled out a set of bones and laid them out on the exam table. Pulling up a new form on the computer she began carefully examining each bone, cataloguing her findings. Again routine dominated her work. She always followed the same protocols in the same methodical order. He watched as a certain kind of peace washed over her – a safety and security that she never felt anywhere quite as much as right here in this lab. He supposed everyone had a place like that. A place that helped them find their center when they felt lost or confused, a place that grounded them, a retreat and regroup place. There was no doubt that lab was her place. He watched as she immersed herself in her work, sunk into it. Then contemplated his own place, the shooting range, maybe, but there were too many ghosts there haunting him. He could blow off steam there but wasn't sure he found himself there. Exercise had always been a release for him, the steady and solitary pace of a run often allowed him to clear his mind and think. He always felt at on the ice, there was a freedom there he didn't feel anywhere else, hockey was definitely a place for him. Church centered him, got himself outside his head, put things in perspective. Maybe The Lincoln Memorial was the place outside of the walls of the church, the reflecting pool, he could always step back and remember who he was, find his foundation. He concluded he had many places that served the purpose that the lab served for her. His mind wandered back to Bones as she worked her way quietly around the table bone by bone. There was no doubt this was where she would find herself, she strength, her spirit.

The only problem here was she needed him to be still and quiet so that she could have peace and find what she was looking for. The _problem _was he wasn't really good at being still or quiet. Two things he had spent the better part of the last week doing. At least at home he could busy himself but here, here there was nothing for him to do. He was trying. He walked around, watched over her shoulder, played games, counted tiles on the floor, answered email, and took a few calls on his phone, paced, sat, stood, shifted his weight back and forth, sighed heavily until she screamed at him to cut it out.

"Leave, Booth, now!"

He looked at her shocked by the sudden break in silence.

"I am fine down here alone. I _want_ to be alone." She saw the look on his face and tried quickly to smooth over her harsh unyielding words, "I will come get you if I need you or I'll call you." She took the phone out of her lab coat pocket and shook it in his face. It didn't come out as playful as she had planned. But it was okay, he kind of liked having her frustrated with him. He smiled at her, not the pity smile she felt she had been getting all week but a genuine, relieved smile. He couldn't help it; he kissed her on the forehead and bounded up the stairs.

The bright morning light was streaming in the sun roof above the forensics platform now and the lab was already buzzing with activity. His feet had no sooner hit the lab floor when Angela came running.

"She's here!" she nearly squealed, "tell me she's here." She was already heading to limbo when Booth grabbed her arm pulling her back.

"Wait, Angela," He watched her face fall. Then she looked at him, he looked like death warmed over. "Wait," he looked at the ground then back up at Angela, "do you have a minute to talk?"

"Hey, of course," her voice softened and filled with compassion, he followed her into her office and slumped down in her couch.

"You can't go down there right now, Ange, she's all wrapped up in a bunch of old bones. It's good though, she kicked me out. That's good, right? She was annoyed at me, it's the first time she's been really annoyed, like normal every day annoyed at me, since this happened."

Angela's whole expression softened as she looked down on this man who she knew was doing everything he could for her friend. It was clear he hadn't slept well in days, probably wasn't eating well. She sat down beside him, set her hand gently on his leg, he would never just vent or complain, it wasn't his style so she carefully constructed a few simple questions so he could share some of the burden he had been carrying alone. They talked for what seemed like hours. He was careful how he worded things trying not to betray any trusts. He kept swearing her to secrecy. He knew if Bones found out they had been talking she would probably kill him but he needed some help and no one knew her better, besides himself, than Angela. Talking worked, he felt more hopeful, less stressed. The subject had drifted to lighter topics when Hodgins rushed in demanding their attention immediately. His urgency spread and the three of them nearly ran out to the platform where Booth saw Cam pacing back and forth. He felt like a rock had been dropped in his stomach, he could feel the dread building in his throat, his mouth going dry, his heart racing. What now? How could it get worse? Why did it have to, wasn't it bad enough as it was?

The group was huddled together when Brennan rounded the corner coming back from bone storage. Talking in hushed tones, Booth pacing back and forth tightly by the group, she could see his jaw pulsing from across the lab. She froze. He turned and caught her eyes directly. How did he do that? She hadn't been loud or obvious, she was barely visible. "Hey, Bones," he was loud enough that everyone froze, turned, and looked at her. She ran to her office. Booth ran after her.

She stopped and turned so abruptly that Booth nearly knocked her over. She stood her ground, arms folded over her chest, her eyes darting, connecting and disconnecting rapidly with his. Her breath was so heavy and hard. "I hate this," she closed her eyes.

"I know, baby, I know." He watched, she held her eyes closed tightly knowing the minute she opened them tears would stream down her face. Her chest heaved as she fought for control.

"Do you know, do you really, Booth? Do you know what it's like to be me right now?" she was yelling.

"Bones, tell me, tell me what it's like. Tell me what is going on in that amazing, beautiful brain of yours. I know you've been working things out I can see it. I can see you think, feel you think. If I don't know it's not because I don't want to know, I want to know. I want to help. Anything, I will do anything I can to help." He stepped just a little closer and lowered his voice, "what can I do, what do you need?"

She huffed, "I need to know what they found, what you were just talking about." She looked almost longingly to the forensics platform, a place that was supposed to be hers, had always been hers, but she was banned from because it held all the evidence from her case at the moment.

Fair enough, he took her by the arm and motioned to the couch, "let's sit down, okay?" They made their way to the couch. He took a deep breath and began, "When Hodgins and Angela got back into town I sent him out to the crime scene to collect more trace evidence. I knew he would find things that everyone else missed and he did. Among the things he found were more used condoms." Booth took another deep breath. "The FBI techs had found three that were in obvious places but these weren't,they had overlooked these. The ones the FBI found," he closed his eyes trying to stay calm and objective telling himself over and over just give her the facts like it was any other case. "The three the FBI found had your DNA on the outside," he could feel the bile rise in his throat, he swallowed hard, and continued, "and DNA on the inside from 3 different men. This one, one of the ones Hodgins found, the one we were just discussing, had DNA that matched one of the men from your assault and another female, not you." He paused, "I don't have to tell you the implications of that. You're probably _not_ the first victim, Bones, probably not the only victim."

She stared at him, speechless.

"They have matched a name to the male DNA, it came in right before you came up from Limbo, I just finished talking to Shaw they're going to find him. They'll call me when they bring him in for questioning. Hodgins is still waiting for the results from the other condoms he found that the FBI techs missed, that should tell us more. They appear older so he doesn't think they're from, you know, your assault."

"The other woman, did they find her?"

"No, but Shaw has someone going through police reports of rapes in the area especially ones where the victim had been at The Science Club before the assault. When they get the list together then I'll approach them and ask them if they would be willing to take a DNA test."

"_You'll_ question them?" she had noticed the distinction he made, he wasn't including her, "Can I be there with you?"

He had been putting off this conversation. He truly dreaded what he was about to say. Reaching out he grabbed her hand, holding it tightly, rubbing his thumb over the tender skin of her hand. Immediately he saw her guard go up further, she knew she wasn't going to like whatever it was Booth was about to tell her.

"You can, but not until you have been cleared by Sweets."

"Sweets? I have to be cleared by Sweets? I have to talk to Sweets about _THIS_?" She stood, pulling away from Booth, and started pacing in front of him and the couch. "_THIS _is not bad enough on its own, now you're telling me I have to go talk about it with Sweets in order to continue to do my job as your partner? How can the FBI even mandate that, technically I don't even work for them? Cam is my boss not Cullen." He waited for her to pause long enough to breathe and then jumped in.

"You don't have to talk to Sweets. Cullen said you could talk to any of the psychologists there at the Hoover; there are a couple of different women psychologists on staff. He just wants to make sure you get help, Bones. He doesn't want you to bottle it up. Cam agreed."

She stopped, put her hands on her hips, and turned to look down at him, still seated on the couch. "So my options are to talk to Sweets or to a stranger? I hate psychology." She started pacing again.

Her head dropped and then her gaze turned back to him. "I don't know if I can do it? Booth, what if I just can't do it?" her voice had sounded so vulnerable and scared, but quickly turned to raw indignation. "Then they aren't going to let us work together anymore? And really who is Sweets or some stranger to tell me if I am fit to work or not? I am fit to work, Booth, I am fine! I will be just fine, it's not like it hasn't happened before. I didn't need to talk to someone then and I don't need to now."

He wasn't sure if she even realized what she had just revealed. Did she think he would miss it? He didn't. He stood abruptly, stunned, shaking his head, "you've been through this before? You just said you've been through this before."

"It's not a big deal, Booth."

"Yes, Temperance, it is most certainly a very big deal."

"Are you mad at me for getting raped more than once in my lifetime?"

"No! of course not. Bones, how could you even think that? I am _not_ mad. I am _upset_ that you're treating it so casually, as if it was nothing."

"Well, technically I wasn't very conscious. I don't know maybe it wasn't rape." She shook her head, "Booth I have to think about this, all of this." She took off her lab coat and hung it back on her coat rack, then grabbed her bag from underneath her desk, with each move she was gaining momentum, cramming the stack of mail in her bag along with some files, she grabbed her coat.

"What? Where do you think you're going?" He was so floored by the conversation that he didn't even register she was headed out the door and out of the building until he had to run to try and catch up with her.

She called back over her shoulder, "I'll be fine." She was in a cab and gone before he could stop her.

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A/N okay I was wrong the one my husband is anxious for me to post is chapter 9 - sorry, tomorrow :) I feel very blessed by all the responses - it has been a great distraction during a difficult time!


	9. Chapter 9

He searched at her apartment first. The lights were all out, her car wasn't there. But then he didn't know what had happened to her car after the assault and he had been too busy with her to even think about it. He used his key to let himself in. He had hoped she would go there so he could at least know where she was and that she was safe. Then he called Angela. Angela had some ideas of where she might have gone and they split the list of places to check. He went to the Founding Fathers, to the diner, to her gym. He called her cell and left messages. He texted her begging her to at least let him know she was safe somewhere. He went to the club she had been at the night she was raped. He even went out to the alley to make sure that for some sick reason she hadn't decided to go there to think. Angela called somewhere in the middle of his search – she couldn't find her either. She wasn't answering her texts or calls either. The problem with searching for someone on the move is that you never know if you just missed them or if they are going to come right after you leave. He went back to the Founding Fathers, back by the diner, and was about to head back by her apartment when he decided to make a detour. It was almost dusk now, still no Bones, still no answers.

What he didn't know was that she hadn't gone to any of her favorite places she'd gone to one of his. She grabbed a coffee at the coffee cart, his favorite coffee cart, and sat in front of the reflecting pool until the sun began to set and the beautiful colors of the sky reached down and painted the water. What should have been beautiful to her, what used to be beautiful, was almost terrifying. She had been determined to stand her ground, had forced herself to stay, to sit, to breathe. Pushing and shoving at the emotions that accosted her, fighting to keep them away was exhausting but there was some satisfaction in it, some sense of triumph. When her panic and fear got worse, unbearable, she took a cab home. She bolted from the cab to her apartment, slammed to door behind her and locked it quickly. Her heart was racing but she had made it. She didn't want to call Booth, she didn't want to need him right now. She wanted to be strong and independent and fearless. She had decided the only way to handle this was to power through it. She had done it before, she would do it again. She stood back against the door, trying to slow her breathing. When she could move again she threw her belongings on the couch. Her need to feel clean was overwhelming now, urgent. She headed straight for a very hot bath.

The reflecting pool was his last stop for the night, not that he thought she would be there. He went there for him. He needed the coffee to keep him awake and the peace this place brought him. Maybe if he cleared his mind he would be able to figure out where she had gone. He texted her again. Called her again. Still nothing. His heart sank. When he had finished his coffee he crumpled the cup and aimed for the trash can sitting not too far off. He missed. He bent down, picked it up, and threw the cup away, letting out a long painful, defeated sigh. One more trip by her apartment, maybe one more trip by the club where everything had happened. He was afraid she went there, to piece her memories back together, to confront them. He didn't want her anywhere near there. Apartment first.

Her own reflection in her full length mirror surprised her causing her to drop the towel she had been drying off with to the floor. She stood staring at an unrecognizable woman, her fingers tracing the remnants of bruises on her hips and thighs. They were healing but seeing herself like this made it hard to see anything but weakness. She was devastated. Backing up to get away from herself she finally hit the wall and sank to the floor. She stayed there curled up in a ball, consumed by how small, powerless, and broken she felt. Soaked from her bath she was soon shivering. Overwhelmed, unable to move, not even reach her towel or robe, she tried to breath and waited for the feeling to pass.

When he saw her bags and coat on the couch he could breathe, really breathe for the first time since she had run out of the Jeffersonian. She wasn't answering as he called her name out but she had to be here somewhere in her apartment. He started searching room to room until he came to her bathroom. Seeing the light peek out from under the closed door he knocked softly, "Bones, Bones are you in there? Are you alright?"

No answer.

"Bones, I need you to answer, okay?"

Still no answer.

"Bones, I have to check if you're in there okay? I'm going to open the door now?"

Slowly he opened the door hoping to give her time to react. She didn't respond, but he'd found her. She looked so small and frail, huddled, naked, her body trembling violently, he burst into action. He got her robe and wrapped it tightly around her shoulders, then grabbed several bath sheets to act as blankets. Booth sank down the wall next to her and wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her shoulders firmly to create friction and heat.

Curled up in his arms she shivered, he was trying to warm her up adjusting her, pulling her closer, running his hands across her back and shoulders. He had been so worried when he couldn't find her his mind had gone nearly crazy with possibilities. Now holding her tightly was really all he wanted to do. Feeling the solidness of her in his arms was such a relief he was more than content to just sit with her in silence and hold her. Tonight there were no tears. It didn't feel like she was distant like so many of these last days. It felt close and personal. He didn't want to move or speak or do anything else that might break the peace of this moment. So they sat there, holding each other for what seemed like forever.

Then she spoke.

"I was about 16, it was after I spent the two days in the trunk." She closed her eyes and scooted a little closer to Booth. "The foster father came and pulled me out of the trunk. I was very dehydrated and very weak. There were cuts on my wrists from trying to get the duct tape off." She made the motions with her hands, acting out what she was saying, "I had scraped it against a rough metal edge I found in the trunk. The car was out on the back of their property. It looked like it could have been a junk yard back there. It was far away from the house and all the kids knew not to go there. He pulled me out and shoved me down on the long bench seat in the back of the car." She took a shuddering breath and continued. "I remember how hot the sun was coming through the back window, and bright, blindingly bright. And the naugahyde seats burned my skin. I was in and out of consciousness but I felt his hands on me, my clothes being pushed aside." Booth brought his strong hand up by her face, brushing her hair back, cradling her next him. "Later, when I was in the hospital I found I had burns on my skin, under where my clothes should have been, on my back and buttocks, from the seat." She cleared her throat, "I don't know how far he got, Booth, I don't know if he raped me. For years I have tried so hard to remember but I can't."

"Temperance." Such a soft and reassuring voice calmed her in a way that she could not explain, gave her strength to continue.

"The last thing I remember was his wife yelling. Then I woke up in the hospital. She had told them that I was troubled – that I tried to kill myself by cutting my wrists and locking myself in the trunk, she said she didn't want me there anymore, they sent me away. They said I would be dead if it hadn't been for them because they found me and saved me. I was in the hospital for several days and then they sent me to a therapist for months. "

He held her tighter, willing her to know that he wanted her, that he would never send her away, that she was safe with him.

"I never said anything not to the hospital staff, not to the social workers or case workers, not to the therapists. I would just sit there in silence. I had decided I would never be vulnerable like that again. I worked hard, studied hard, when I became financially capable I took martial arts, learned how to fight, how to protect myself."

So many things made more sense now. Her hatred of psychology for one. No wonder she was so upset that she was being required meet with Sweets, it must make her feel like that 15 year old ward of the state all over again. His mind flashed back to her office where she had earlier worried aloud that she wouldn't be able to talk to Sweets. Now he understood, she meant literally she was afraid she wouldn't be able to talk about, worried about sitting in silence all over again. Even her overtly scientific approach to relationships and intimacy were starting to make more sense to him too. The distance that she put between emotion and sex, saying it was all chemicals and hormones to her, biological urges, responses, functions. Maybe it was all just what she had do to make it work, to make it okay, to make it not so traumatic. She wouldn't like it but to him it just proved how important it was that she did get some counseling this time around. His attention snapped back to her, she started talking again.

"In the end it didn't matter, did it? All the martial arts, all the self-defense training, none of it helped me; none of it saved me from it happening again and worse." She pulled herself tighter in towards his body, she wanted to lose herself in him, crawl inside him where everything felt so safe.

"I really don't want to talk to Sweets, Booth, but I don't want to talk to a stranger either." She sounded unguarded, honest, calm, and then resolved, "I hate psychology."

He thought for a moment, "Hey, how about you just talk to me, okay? And we let Sweets just be there in the room, to watch and maybe if he asks questions you can give the answers to me. Maybe we can do that, what do you think?"

She nodded into his chest. "Okay."

"We'll get through this, I promise, okay? I promise." Pushing the hair back from her face he laid a soft kiss on the top of her head. They sat in silence for a few minutes more as Booth tried to figure out how to tell her how much it meant to him that she had talked to him, shared something so personal. Chances were that she had carried that awful burden from the days that it happened until tonight all alone, he knew that. It just made him love her even more. "Hey, Bones, thanks, you know, for telling me," he whispered to her, his head leaning on hers, bodies wrapped around each other.

He waited a few more minutes then broke the silence and the moment. "So, Bones, I don't suppose you'd give me his name would you?"

She chuckled knowing exactly what he'd do with the information and taking more than a little bit of pleasure in the thought. "He's dead, Booth, they both are now. I got a letter out of the blue a few years back from another former foster child of theirs informing me of his death and asking me to please share the names of other girls I remembered being in the home, they were trying to let all of us know. I wasn't the only one, you know, not his, their, only victim."

A silence fell back over them as they both imagined what Booth might do to such a man if he had the chance to meet him.

"Booth, it's getting late can we just stay here tonight?"

We, he liked the sound of that. "Yes, Bones, of course _we_ can." It made his lips turn up in a slight smile. It had been such a long crazy day, bumpy, but somehow it seemed like they were in a different place than when they started it, a better place.

"Booth? I'm really very hungry, can we order some Thai food?"

"Absolutely, baby, anything you want." His eyes caught and locked with hers as he helped her up from the bathroom floor. She secured the robe around her and let the other towels fall as he carefully tucked her hair behind her ear and stroked her cheek. She couldn't move, absolutely taken in by his features. In some ways it was like seeing them for the first time, like she hadn't ever seen him before. Her fingers reached for him, lightly tracing the deep circles under his beautiful caring eyes. Her thumb running over his cracked lips, "You're dehydrated, Booth, you need some water." He turned into her hand and laid a light kiss on her palm then led her out of the bathroom.

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A/N Well...what do you think? I am anxious to hear :) So is my husband, Mark, this is one of his favorite chapters so far.

It might be a couple days before I can post again and the posts might be farther apart depending on how things are going - sorry :( my mom's health has been failing for quite some time and it looks like we will be enrolling her in hospice services today

I cannot tell you how much the wonderful reviews, support, encouragement, and new friendships have meant to me. It has been amazing and perfectly timed. I will answer the reviews - I am just terribly behind because of all that has been happening. Don't think for a second that I don't love them or need them after I've closed my eyes, held my breath, and pressed post!


	10. Chapter 10

A/N Thank you for all the support folks - the reviews and messages of support for my writing and the situation with my mom's health and hospice has been overwhelming and sustaining in a very difficult time...I feel it, stronger than just words on a screen!

I want to give a special thank you to givesup who continues to be a huge support... my sweet husband, who loved all your feedback for chapter 9 which is one of his favorite chapters, pointed out the other night that while he pushed me to post I never would have without givesup's encouragement :) he knows me well!

Hope you enjoy this chapter...

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He woke first this morning, tangled in her, it seemed so comfortable, natural. Yesterday had brought more change and progress in both her and the case than he ever could have guessed. Despite the worry and franticness of trying to find her last night had ended well. This morning he had an idea. All these days he had let her sleep as long as she could in the morning, not this morning. He leaned over gently moving the hair away from her face and whispered her name long and drawn out in her ear, "Bones."

It tickled; she swatted at him and groaned. "Booth," it was whiny, she sounded whiny. He wasn't sure he had ever heard her actually whine like this before. He chuckled.

"Bones, wake up I have plans for this morning."

"Plans? Why? It's early." she complained while rubbing her eyes. His hand, which was resting on her waist, slid along her body as she stretched beneath him. Uuuuugh, he managed to contain his groan. She was so beautiful and strong and right here under his fingertips, so close. He rolled quickly out of bed fighting the urge to chase her stretch and run his hand firmly up the side of her body.

"Come on, get up! We're going to go running! I'm . . . I'm going to the bathroom . . . to change . . . so hurry up, Bones!" she watched as his boxer and t-shirt clad body disappeared.

Pretty soon they were jogging along a familiar path in the park. Her ponytail swayed back and forth, their feet pounding a steady pace, hearts pumping hard, lungs breathing heavy, minds in a constant steady flow of contemplation. It felt good, very good. And when they stopped and cooling down she told him just that. "This was a good idea, Booth." Walking in circles and stretching her legs, her breath still heavy, she was about to tell him all the biological ins and outs of dopamine and serotonin release when his phone rang.

It was Shaw with a case update. Brennan was anxious, pacing back and forth, waiting for him to get off so she could find out the details. It seemed like forever. Like time had slowed down and was getting slower and slower until it was hardly moving at all. Finally he finished, sat down on a planter, rubbing his face with his hands.

"Booth?" she sat down next to him.

No sense in delaying, "Okay, Bones, they have the guy who's DNA was a match at the Hoover for questioning. I told them to wait, I want to be there." His jaw was pulsing again, rapid and hard, she could see the muscles flexing. "They have a list of several woman that filed police reports all of which sounded a lot like yours. They went to meet someone at the club, the person didn't show, they waited for a long time, bar gets busy, nice prospective guy comes along asks to sit at their table, not too long and they are dizzy and nauseous and headed to the bathroom, guy 'helps' them outside and it all becomes a blur at some point until they wake up in the alley. Shaw is trying to reach them now and set up interviews. So, are you –"

"I want to meet with Sweets! If I start meeting with Sweets today will they let me go on those interviews with you, to see the other women. You need a woman there, Booth, with you, correct? Given the sensitive subject matter, it would be appropriate in this situation. Anthropologically speaking woman confide and relate more to other women than to men seeing men as the aggressors as a whole and not trusting them to understand their plight as much as another woman. I can relate to their experience having suffered a similar violent event. I can do that."

This woman, he looked at her almost blankly, such a long and involved explanation, justification, why couldn't she just say I want to go, it's important to me. Really, if he was honest with himself, the problem was he had a hell of a time telling her no, no matter what she asked or how she asked it. "I'll talk to Sweets and Cullen, are you up to going to the Hoover with me?"

The question had barely left his lips before she answered. "Yes."

"Okay, then, we'll swing by my house so I can shower and change and then yours, okay? Then we're off to the Hoover, Bones." He tried to sound cheery and triumphant.

Brennan had been wrapped up in her own world, struggling with the idea of meeting with Sweets but anxious to be with Booth when he interviewed the other possible victims. She was so consumed with her own thoughts that at first she missed the shift in his mood. As they got closer to the Hoover, however her awareness of him became almost overshadowing to everything else around her. He had grown nearly silent but she could feel his intensity, it was loud, almost screaming at her. At first she wondered if he was mad at her, she started thinking back over the morning and what she may have done to upset him. Maybe she had pushed too hard to work with him again, to be there when he interviewed the other victims. As they took the elevator up to Booth's office she became transfixed with the muscles pulsing over his strong mandible and maxillary plates, the pulsing pounded out a steady rhythm. Her attention fell to his hand. He kept clenching it into a tight fist then stretching his fingers out wide then pulling them back into a tight fist again. She felt the pressure of the hand that rested on the small of her back steadily increase until he had slid it around her waist and pulled her tightly to him. She realized that it had to be more than something she did.

"Booth, what is wrong?" it was a plain and simple question with no plain or simple answer.

"I'm not sure if the man we have in custody here was the person who approached you at the bar or one of the others." He didn't want to tell her that she was his big concern – that this would all be too much for her.

Her heart started to race, "here?"

"Here, yes," he didn't catch it at first, that she had missed that part of the conversation entirely. "We know for sure he was one of the men who assaulted you. We have DNA in evidence." What Booth was saying seemed to be getting softer and softer, the pounding of her heartbeat louder and louder. "BONES!" she was yanked back to reality. He was sitting her down in a chair and forcibly pushing her head between her knees.

She fought back, "It's okay, Booth, I'm okay. I'm okay." Squatted down by her side, rubbing her back, he wasn't reassured as he looked on her pale, colorless expression. "I'm okay. I can try and ID him. I can do it." Truth was it scared her to death; she had been so focused on getting cleared to work with Booth that her brain had skipped over the part where one of men that raped her was there, in the Hoover. But, she knew she _had _to do it, she had to get back to working with him so she _would_ meet with Sweets and she _would_ do her best to ID her attackers. She would do anything she had to do. She would push through it.

Booth did that thing he did where he looked straight into her soul searching for the truth in what she was saying and he found it. He moved himself so that he was right in front of her and took both of her hands in his. "Temperance, you are the most amazing woman I know." She didn't feel amazing, she felt weak to all these emotions, batted about by them. In some respects she longed for the days before Booth when she hadn't let people or feelings or emotions in beyond her walls. But then she looked at him, as he continued to tell her how strong she was and brave and how he was here with her and would stand by her. She decided it was better to feel something, even this, than to be alone. She squeezed his hands tightly. Wishing that somehow that would convey how important he was to her since she couldn't find the words.

"Bones, so here is what is going to happen. I have to meet with Cullen and Sweets. I am going to propose to them that they sign off on light duty while you meet with Sweets, until he completely clears you for regular duty, okay?" she nodded showing compliance. "I want you to stay in here, in my office, no wondering around without me today. I will meet with them in the conference room and I promise I will go straight there and straight back here, okay? You won't miss anything. I'll tell you everything. I won't go anywhere or do anything without telling you."

"Booth, I am NOT a child," her indignation flashed, she didn't like the way he was talking to her.

"No, you're not a child, you're right, you're absolutely right. I didn't mean for you to feel that way. But," he paused and readjusted his position, now kneeling on his knees in front of her and gently cradling her face in his hands, "but I don't want you to run into _that_ man alone in the halls while they're transferring him or something. Bones, it's really hard for me not to walk in there right now and beat the living shit out of him. I know what he did, I know he's guilty. He hurt my partner, my friend, the woman I love most in this world. I want him dead. And if he were to say or do something to you today I would, I would kill him. I would not be able to control myself. So, _please_, not because you're a child but because I need your help, just stay here. I promise I won't make you wonder what's going on or make you wait, okay?"

Her eyes were glassy, she was holding back her tears, but, she couldn't hold back everything she felt for this man kneeling before her. She leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek. Her lips brushed his hesitantly, then slid to the side of his cheek about half on the edge of his lips, and fell softly into a kiss. She lingered there for a moment. She wanted to give him more, she wanted to give him everything but not here, not yet, she needed to get a little stronger first. He pulled back brushing her lips with his thumb softly. "You're dehydrated, Bones," he smiled and winked at her, "I'll have Charlie bring you some water." Then he pulled himself up off the ground and left her in his office closing the door behind him.

She watched as he leaned down and talked to Charlie at his desk then patted him on the shoulder and walked off – she suspected that he told him to keep an eye on her, though she was sure that Charlie would deny it if she asked and it didn't really matter. She started to feel the nervousness take hold and fought hard to keep it at bay. Yesterday, today, it seemed when she was out she panicked, no longer trusting her ability to take care of herself with the confidence she had before this all happened. She would have to fight the panic, tough it out, build her confidence back up again. In the meantime, she paced in his office, sat in one chair then another trying to calm herself, started to bite one of her fingernails then stopped herself, and tried controlled her breathing. Regardless of her efforts her heart was starting to race, until she saw him, Booth, walking back with Cullen and Sweets. They couldn't have finished a meeting; Booth hadn't been gone long enough to have a meeting. They were followed by Charlie with a bottle of water for her.

"Hey, Dr. Brennan," Sweets greeted her first with an overabundance of enthusiasm. She acknowledged him, still trying to figure out what was going on.

Cullen spoke next, "Dr. Brennan, you're looking well." She hesitantly thanked him. "We thought it best to have this meeting with you since it concerned you and your work with us here at the FBI. She was anxious before they included her in the meeting, now she wasn't at all sure whether this meant good news or bad. She was likely to misread situations like these on a good day, today was already not a good day, good week, good month. She fought to calm herself and looked to Booth for cues as to whether she had cause to be nervous. She felt his hand at the small of her back leading her to a chair; she let her breath out cautiously, her fingers nervously playing with the wrapper on her water bottle. Booth seemed calm.

"Well, Dr. Brennan, Booth tells me you would like to be with him when he approaches the other possible victims. I've given it some thought, talked to Dr. Sweets here about it and Caroline Julian, and made a decision. Really, we can't let you work your own case, Caroline tells me it could become a problem when we go to trial." She could feel the emotions rising up powerfully in her chest as she tried to remain calm. Booth's hands landed on her shoulders and squeezed lightly, she took it as a show of solidarity and syphoned all the strength she could pull from it. She was holding her eyes open, sure that tears would roll down her face if she blinked. "However, she also told me that if you were to go with Booth as another victim, not in the official capacity as his partner, it could have a positive influence encouraging these other ladies to help with the case." It seemed like forever since she had exhaled. Cullen smiled as he watched the relief wash over her expression. "My one stipulation is that you meet with Dr. Sweets or another doctor here at the FBI at least once a week starting today. I know you are one hell of a woman, very strong, incredibly intelligent, and might want to manage all this on your own. Meeting with Dr. Sweets does not make you any less of a person in our eyes. I expect that you will be back to full duty in no time, we need you to be, Booth needs you to be. I'm sure you know you have the full support of your partner but I want you to know you have to full support of this office behind you as well." She nodded her acknowledgement.

"Okay, next order of business, we have a man here for questioning, his DNA implicates him as one of your attackers and possibly other women. We realize that you were heavily drugged during the assault so while we are asking you to take a look at him and see if you remember him from that night. It's understandable if you don't. We don't want you to feel any pressure to make an ID. We know regardless that he was involved. Are you comfortable with going into the observation room and taking a look at him, seeing if he looks familiar?"

He didn't have to tell her that the man wouldn't be able to see her – she was very familiar with the observation room. She had been in it before, seemed like a million times or more, watching Booth interrogate people or Sweets or other agents for that matter. "Yes, I will do my best, I will be honest, and whatever the truth is that is what you will get from me."

"Are you okay with Dr. Sweets being with you in the observation room agent Booth here would like to sit in on the interrogation?"

She looked at Sweets, felt Booths hands rubbing lightly back and forth over her shoulders, her attention drifted back to Cullen. "Yes, I think I can do that." She would have preferred to have Booth there but she had known Sweets for years now and he knew he'd be in the middle of all her thoughts and reactions to this situation soon enough whether she wanted him there or not. She could do this, she reassured herself, she could.

"Okay then, we're going to head over there in a few minutes." He slapped his thighs as if to say he was done and leave then stopped, looked at Sweets and continued, "Dr. Brennan, being in there identifying an attacker may be a different experience than you have ever had before. If you need to leave the room to get some air you just tell Dr. Sweets and he'll get you out of there, okay?" He gave Dr. Sweets a sharp look of instruction, a warning to watch after her, be aware of her state of mind, and move her out of there if he thought it necessary. She agreed, opened the water, and took a long drink avoiding the need to join in the small talk.

Everything was carefully orchestrated. Charlie came in and told them that things were set in the interrogation room. A representative from Metro police department was there too. She would later learn that Cullen had worked a deal with the Metro Police Chief, they would handle the case with minimal involvement from Metro but Metro would take the credit in the end. They would thank the FBI and Jeffersonian for their help in the investigation. Caroline Julian would assist the district attorney in the prosecution of the case. As the men stood and headed out of Booth's office Booth, himself, hung back. He took her hand loosely in his. His fingers were barely brushing and nervously playing with her fingers. He walked with her.

"So, you're okay with this arrangement then?"

She looked at him carefully, "I'm anxious . . . very anxious, but I will be okay, Booth."

He opened the observation room door for her and turned her over to Sweets. She walked up to the glass and stood by him looking purposely everywhere but at the suspect, then closed her eyes, squared her shoulders, and tried to breathe.

Sweets' voice echoing in her head, "There's no rush, Dr. Brennan, take your time and whenever you're ready . . ." then eventually it trailed off.


	11. Chapter 11

The sounds of the interrogation room were filling her ears introductions, small talk, the preambles to the real work. She let them float around her, eyes still closed, breathing, switching her weight back and forth from one leg to the other, finding her footing. Douglas, they said his name was Douglas Clyve, she heard that. It sounded so normal. Sweets watched her breathing, watched her stance, and waited. He had talked briefly with Booth a couple of times over the week about how she was doing. It was always interesting to him how protective these two were of each other. He had learned more about how she was really handling things in the last 20 minutes watching her than in both of the conversations with Booth who guarded her well.

Slowly she lifted her eyes, she expected to have a clear view of the suspect, she didn't. Booth was sitting with his back to the observation window directly in front of the man.

"I can't see him," she whispered. What she thought would over within seconds of opening her eyes was now prolonged. "Sweets, I can't see him." There was almost a tone of disbelief in her voice and at first Sweets wasn't sure if she was saying that her memory wasn't clear and she couldn't tell for sure if it was him or if she couldn't see him now. "Tell Booth to move. I can't see him." Her voice came out sharp and direct this time. Her heart was pounding harder, faster.

They were past pleasantries; Cullen leading the questioning knowing full well that Booth's presence in the room was risky to begin with. Were you at the Science Club on Friday May 17, who were you there with, how long were you there, who can verify your story? Easy, the suspect didn't flinch. Booth moved casually out of the way. Brennan took a step closer to the glass. He had dark hair like the man that approached her. She raised fingers to touch the glass. She had tried so hard to remember, but at the same time did everything in her power to forget. Her mind was racing back grasping at flashes of images so fleeting, begging them to linger and come into focus. Black hair, Michael had black hair or dark hair, it had been so dark and crowded in the club.

"Did you leave with anyone that night? Did you see this woman there? Because witnesses say they saw you with her." More flashes, her body shuddered. Sweets asked her if she needed a break. Hands, mostly she remembered hands, so rough, pinching, painful, they hurt. A tattoo? It was just outside her reach. Green eyes, one of them had green eyes.

"Dr. Brennan, do you need a break?" he was louder this time, more insistent for an answer, she waved a hand at him to stop. He'd never seen focus like this, he was concerned, her intensity, her breathing was fast, her face flushed.

The suspect's demeanor changed. You could see he felt challenged, trapped. Yeah he saw her, she was drunk, flirtatious, approached him, wouldn't take no for an answer. Her eyes widened horrified at his words. Booth was pacing in the background, jaw pounding, maybe he was waiting to hear Bones say this was the guy. Maybe he was waiting for her to say anything, to hear her voice instead of Sweets' voice asking if she was okay over and over. He busied his hands with the file. Then, BOOM, Booth slammed the file in front of the suspect towering behind him, tension in his voice was palpable, "DNA doesn't lie, Douglas." She gasped, her whole body jumped when his hand hit that table. He heard her in the ear piece he was wearing. It startled him, he looked up at the two-way glass.

Snake, there was a coiled snake tattoo, between the thumb and first finger on one of her attackers.

Now the man was yelling, whore, bitch, slut it all mixed together with Booth's voice, cold, angry, but protective, protective of her; and Sweets yelling for Booth to come help her.

"She wanted it," he was yelling that she wanted it, "I just gave her what she wanted, rough like she wanted it, now she changes her mind and calls it rape." She covered her ears and sank to the floor, turning, she backed up against the wall. She wanted to disappear. She tried to call for Booth but nothing came out, no sound at all, no voice.

Booth snapped, grabbed the man by the back of his shirt and jacket, lifted him clean out of the chair, flipped him around, pinned him to the wall all seamless move. Where was Booth, why wasn't he coming? She needed him. She heard the man's head hit the wall, Booths fist connected with the man's face, the sound of the punch, the guttural moan echoing loudly through both rooms. Booth didn't let him drop he pulled back to hit him again. Cullen and Metro were holding him back yelling in his ear, Sweets yelling in his ear, the asshole suspect yelling obscenities in his face. She was shaking violently, rocking, covering her ears. She, she found her voice, she called for Booth, begged for Booth. Sweets screamed, "AGENT BOOTH, she needs you NOW!"

He shook off the other men, twisting, pushing his way through them, bolting to get to her.

Booth shot through the door, he couldn't find her at first, his eyes scanning the room, his ears assaulted by the sounds of the interrogation room. "Turn that damn thing off, Sweets, what the hell were you thinking? She heard _all_ of that?" Sweets turned it off, the room seemed silent. Booth saw her on the floor, cowered against the wall, his world shrank to just her. Collapsing, he cradled her face and spoke tenderly to her, "Bones, I'm here baby, I'm right here. Look at me okay." He lifted her head but her eyes were squeezed shut, he stoked the sides of her cheeks with his thumbs tenderly. Watching as the tension in her face slowly eased. When she finally opened her eyes they darted everywhere, she wouldn't look at him. He thought back to all the things that were said in that room, all the things she heard. He pulled her into his chest, wrapping his big strong arms around her, whispering to her, reminding her that she was going to be okay, that he wouldn't leave.

He barely heard her whisper, "Booth?"

Responding tenderly, "yeah, I'm here, Bones."

Pulling her back just a little to look her in the eyes, "I'm here now, I'm not leaving."

Her look got frantic again, she pounded on his chest with her open hand, "Booth." He felt her heave beneath his hands, he knew this one, she threw up frequently at first, still it seemed at least once a day, not as much as the first couple of days though. He grabbed the trash can and quickly moved it in front of her. Then he carefully swooped up her hair holding it back out of the way while rubbing gently up and down her back as the nausea got the best of her.

"Sweets, why don't you give us a few minutes, can you go get some wet paper towels and some water." He left. Baffled by everything he had just witnessed. He could see how frequently the panic had turned to vomiting for her. They had a clearly established routine. You don't develop a routine if it only happens every once in a while. Booth had clearly seen the signs, knew exactly what she was trying to tell him. He was struck by her implicit trust of Booth. He had wondered how their separation and then Hannah's presence over the last few months had affected the trust between the partners. Clearly it didn't damage it beyond repair, it was obvious she trusted him so completely. Their partnership had always amazed him but he could only theorize how they would handle a crisis like this before, now he was watching it unfold before his eyes. He wanted to scream – see I was right!

When he walked back into the room Booth was still wrapped around her talking to her, calming her. She seemed to be about done, at the end. He handed him the wet paper towels and the water. Booth carefully wiped her mouth with one of them and threw it away, handing her the water to rinse her mouth with. The other cool wet towel he gently dabbed across her forehead then along the back of her neck, "is that better?" he asked softly. She nodded. He leaned back against the observation room wall and pulled her close to him, nestling on her side between his legs. Her head on his chest, she curled up in him, his body around her on nearly all sides. Everything became still and quiet in the dimly lit room. Nearly the only sounds were his soft whispers, which were only loud enough for her to hear and her occasional shuddered breaths and whimpers as she calmed down. Sweets stepped back and leaned up against the door. He watched the partners, giving them the time they needed. In all fairness he needed a little time too.

Booth could feel her body relax into his, he watched as her hand with limply curled finger hung off his chest. He couldn't see but her eyelids drooped heavily closing every once in a while like they were in slow motion. Sweets broke the silence, "Dr. Brennan, if you're ready maybe we can talk for a few minutes then call it quits for today."

"I think she's been through enough today, _kid_, don't you?" there was an edge to Booth's voice, disdain. He was still mad that Sweets had left the speakers to the interrogation room on, that Bones had heard everything. He pulled her closer, protectively wrapping his arms around her, gently stroking her cheek with his thumb, trying to keep his temper and agitation under control for Bones' sake.

"Agent Booth, you can't protect her from what already happened and protecting her from dealing with what happened is a mistake." He saw a flash in the man's eyes that quite frankly scared the hell out of him. He continued anyways, this was his area of expertise and he wanted to help. "What you _can_ do is be there to help her deal with it, hold her, reassure her, remind her how strong and bright she is, like I've been watching you do, right here. But don't make the mistake of being her excuse not to deal." He boldly took a couple steps closer to the couple and squatted down to their level on the floor. "Dr. Brennan, is it okay if I sit here and talk with you for a couple minutes."

There was a long stretch of silence. She leaned into the crook of Booth's elbow her head resting on his bicep, she opened her eyes to look at Sweets, "it's okay Booth, I'll talk to him."

Booth whispered to her, "do you want to stay here, we don't have to stay in here, we could go to my office or Sweets' office?"

"No, I don't want to move," she sounded a little frantic and insistent on staying where she was, she burrowed farther into him. He reached around her with his other arm and grabbed her hand, it seemed so small and fragile in his own.

"Okay, Bones, we can stay right here. Sweets, can you make sure the occupied light is still on and block the door so no one comes in."

He did and returned to his spot on the floor, this time sitting all the way down on the ground, facing her so he could watch her expressions and reactions. "Why do you want to stay here?"

Her heart began pounding again. She was such a powerfully articulate woman and yet she felt like she couldn't think since this whole thing happened. She couldn't think and she couldn't express herself like she used to. She shrugged, "I don't know." Sweets waited. "I feel . . . right now . . . right now I feel safe here."

"Would you not feel safe in Booth's office? Or in my office?" Booth shot him a look. "What about those places doesn't feel safe right now?" Booth had thought the last couple weeks were pretty much pure torture but this, therapy for this, might be worse. Having to listen to him question her. Drawing out the private thoughts and feelings from such a private person, her private thoughts and feelings, seemed like a violation in and of itself. It was like the rape kit all over again, violating in its own right. And they hadn't even gotten to anything deeply personal. It made him feel helpless, Sweets was right, he couldn't protect her from this. He felt her warm tears hit is arm. Adjusted the hand that was wrapped around hers resting it on his leg and started drawing small circles on her palm, it helped, both of them.

She tried to distance herself from her answers, like she were talking about someone else. "They are too exposed, too many windows, too many people."

"Are you feeling panicked around people? Crowds? Small groups?" he decided to be more specific Dr. Brennan was not exactly the most emotionally aware person he knew. "Does your heart race, do you break out in sweats, feel the urge to run or flee?"

She let out a long shuddered breath, "yes." She lowered her head as if in shame. Booth continued to rub small circles in her hand.

"How are you sleeping? Do you have a hard time getting to sleep, staying asleep; are you waking up a lot, sleeping more than normal or at times you normally don't sleep? Are you having nightmares?"

This was all like gathering evidence she told herself, struggling to hold onto a more scientific stance trying to make it easier to talk about. "Yes."

He nodded, accepting her short answers and moving on, "Dr. Brennan, you have always been very strong, confident in martial arts and self-defense. Do you still feel that way or do you have a greater sense of fear, a loss of your sense of control, or loss of confidence in your ability to protect yourself?"

She tried to concentrate harder on the circles Booth was laying down on her hand, soft, even, steady as Sweets voice broke into her deepest fears. Tears were her only answer as she dissolved into sobs. She felt robbed, robbed of nearly everything that made her who she was.

"And the nausea and vomiting, they've been common, when you get upset, right?" He didn't wait for an answer this time. "Dr. Brennan, you are suffering from Rape Trauma Syndrome and the things you're experiencing are all common to people who have suffered similar trauma. The symptoms can be worse depending on the nature of your attack. Stranger attacks are hard to recover from, they evoke a great sense of fear where confidence was before." He was purposely speaking more formally with a heavy emphasis on scientific language for her benefit. "Multiple attackers, your drugged state, all of them add to the symptoms you're experiencing. Some people withdraw into a shell, some people pretend that everything is fine, that they've handled it. I've seen you do both of these today. Others run to the point of moving to a new town or state. I don't see you even considering that as an option. Regardless, you need to face it, deal with it, let the people who love you help you. Talk to them. Let them support you so you can talk about your fears, your nightmares, your sense of loss. Not distantly, like you are separating yourself and talking about someone else, personally, share yourself." He paused after that one, calling her on the carpet, acknowledging that he could tell she was trying to separate herself from the even and emotions. "You will recover, if you face it, if you deal with it head on it will be like the broken bone that is set right and heals stronger. If you hide it away and don't confront it then it won't heal properly and it'll mess you up, mess up your relationships, mess up your life."

She was weak, nearly falling asleep, but, she couldn't resist. "That's a myth. Bone does not heal stronger when it is broken. Studies suggest it heals neither stronger nor weaker than the state it was previous to the break." It wasn't meant to affect his analogy, just to correct his inaccurate information.

Booth chuckled softly, Sweets smiled at her, she was still in there, "We start the real work in a couple of days, okay guys, in my office next time. But, if you need me you call me anytime and I will come to where ever you are, okay? I'm on your side, on your team, not against you, okay? If I ask you hard questions, make you go places you don't want to go, it's because I want to see you get back to where you were and the nice part about this is you can heal stronger, apparently unlike bone. I'm going to go out now but I'll leave the occupied light on so you won't be disturbed."

They settled into to the quiet with Sweets gone.

Booth was the first to break it, "I'm sorry you heard all of that, Bones, you never should have. You know everything he said was lies, right, you know that I know they were lies? No one believes him. He's just trying to cover his ass."

She nodded into his chest but he knew it wasn't that simple, it would take time and lots of reassurance.

"Hey, when you're ready let's go home, maybe we can pick up some lunch on the way, take a nap this afternoon. I don't know about you but I'm exhausted."

"From the diner? That sounds good, Booth. I want a bath, a long hot bath maybe after we eat, maybe before."

"Of course, I'll run you one for you whenever you're ready." Sweets hadn't asked her about that, bathing all the time, bath after bath but never feeling clean.

She started to untangle herself from him letting him know she was ready to go. He felt the sudden rush to protect her when they were about to leave the room, to go before her and clear the halls but she needed to be around people, he knew that. Instead he took her hand and held it tightly. She turned and looked at him, he smiled, turned off the occupied light, and they walked out together discussing what to order at the diner, hand in hand. She was scared, everything in her life turned upside down. She felt very much like she had plunged into deep water, fighting to find which way was up so she could reach the surface for a breath of air. For now she clung fiercely to his hand and to something as simple and normal as lunch from the diner.

A/N Happy Monday - is that an oxymoron? I suppose it depends on what kind of Monday you're having - next Monday, September 16th, will be happy for sure! Thank you for the continued support and reviews! They have been so wonderful and helpful. While chapter 9 was one of Mark's (my husband's favorites) this chapter is one of mine - hopefully I conveyed the intensity and frantic chaotic mess of the interrogation/observation room :) let me know what you think...please :)


	12. Chapter 12

Neither of them was sure exactly what had just happened in their session with Sweets. They both walked out of Sweets' office a little stunned and headed back down to Booth's. Both silently thinking about it as they walked, not ready to talk. The offices were mostly dark, halls quiet, the busyness of the day left behind for the quietness of the night. His hand comfortably nestled in the small of her back was a good thing. Ever since the attack she was more nervous, less sure of herself. She had been at the Hoover more nights than she could count, actually preferred it quiet like this, but tonight she was happy to have the firmness of his hand on her back as a reminder that she wasn't alone.

It had been over a week since she had broken down in the observation room. Over a week since she'd started going with Booth to meet with other victims, asking them to help with the investigation and case. Over a week since she had started meeting with Sweets regularly, more regularly than originally planned. In fact, nearly every time they met with a victim they ended up in Sweets' office under the guise of keeping him updated. He said the information they provided about the victims' interviews was helping him build a profile. They had made a habit of running every morning, it made her feel stronger. She had spent part of everyday in Limbo working on identifying old bones, it made her feel normal. Both of which she needed, desperately, to feel normal and strong. In the meantime she found her own experience mingling with the experiences of the other ladies they had met with. It was both difficult and comforting to know she wasn't alone in her fears, her reactions, her experience.

She was pretty sure that Sweets thought he was pulling one over on her by asking to share the details of each interview, to talk about how to other woman felt in comparison to her own feelings, her own experience. It wasn't lost on her that he was drawing more out of her than if he asked her straight up to express her own feelings. But she was vague in her answers, mostly agreeing with what the other women felt or saying that was not her experience. It worked for right now and it was certainly easier to talk about it through the experience of the other women. So, she didn't let him know that she saw through what his ploy and complied.

Finally, back to Booth's office, he started gathering his belongings when all of a sudden he stopped, looked up at her then back at his bag. Back and forth for what seemed like forever, "Bones, I know you're tired but are you okay to stay a little longer? I really need to," he hesitated, "I'd like to head upstairs to the gym. You can come with me," he quickly added. "I just want to hit the punching bag around a bit, blow off some steam."

"Sure, Booth, I can do that." He had been there for everything, never asking for anything in return, always mindful of her and what she needed above his own needs. She was tired, worn out from the day, unsure of herself from the session, wanting desperately to get back to Booth's and shower but she could do this for him.

"Great, Bones," he smiled at her as he came back around the desk and led her upstairs. She waited for him in the empty gym while he changed, anxious but occupying herself with email on her laptop. He hurried, knowing that being alone was very hard for her. She was sitting cross legged on the floor close to the punching bags with her computer in her lap when he came out. She had a way of mesmerizing him without even trying, just sitting there being her. He watched as she tucked her hair behind her ear and typed madly – always intense, always purposeful.

He dropped his belongings by the wall, his mind drifted back to Sweets office. It had started out like the other meetings with him this last week. He asked how the interviews were going, seeming to be more concerned about the other victims and their experiences. She dove into sharing. Booth moved to the bag and started his routine, one he started in high school and carried into the military where he boxed regularly. He let the rhythm carry him, carry his mind, carry his worries. She was talking about how hurt this victim, Tracy was her name, how hurt she was that her boyfriend was so affected by her rape. But somewhere, Booth was sure, it stopped being about Tracy and started being about Bones and what she felt because she was sharing things that didn't take place in the interview, stuff that had to be her own feelings that she was saying were Tracy's feelings. He just wasn't sure where.

As he got more and more warmed up his punches came faster and harder to the bag. Faster, harder, to the bag faster and harder as his mind tried to make sense of the last hour with Sweets. She was talking about how Tracy wanted to be intimate but how her boyfriend couldn't be sexual with her, didn't want to be sexual with her. There was some truth in that, Tracy had hinted at that but, Bones, she added more to it, took it so much farther than the surface attention that Tracy had given it. She elaborated, talked about how dirty Tracy felt, ruined, how she was sure that it had made it impossible for her boyfriend to want her. That all her boyfriend saw her as was the broken, beaten woman he brought home from the hospital. And before he even knew what was going on Booth had jumped in the conversation. He was telling Bones and Sweets that he was sure that wasn't how the boyfriend felt. How he was probably just worried about touching her, worried about her not wanting him to touch her, worried about hurting her, or triggering a flashback by touching her in the same way as her attackers. Back and forth their conversation went, supposedly Tracy and her boyfriend's thoughts but not, right? Not really, right, it seemed like maybe they were talking about their own thoughts their own worries. He punched harder, faster.

"He won't touch her, she just wants to be touched by someone who says he loves her to counterbalance the horrific memories of being touched by those monsters, but, he won't touch her," Bones had said that and it came out so raw and desperate. "He says he loves her but he won't touch her." He thought Sweets eyes were going to fall out of his head they got so big but he didn't say anything, just looked at Booth waiting for his response. Just let them keep going back and forth, faster, more intensely. Their conversation had escalated, become almost argumentative and Sweets he just sat there like he was watching like a tennis match his head bobbing back and forth, a smug knowing smile on his face. He didn't even try to stop it. Sweat was rolling off him, flying off him as he struck the bag harder and harder.

"Why can't you understand, Bones, he's not the bad guy here? He loves her, loves her so much that he doesn't want to hurt her any more than she has already been hurt. Why can't you see that? That he might touch her in a way that hurts her or reminds her of something awful, the pressure he feels is horrible. He wants to comfort her in that way but doesn't want to make things worse for her." His eyes locked with hers, "He loves her, he does, he's just paralyzed by the fear of hurting her more." He watched her retreat. He retreated. The session ended. Sweets' great and wise advice for Tracy and her boyfriend "sounds like they have a lot to talk about."

He lost his rhythm punching, looked down at Bones who was staring up at him entranced. How long had she been watching? He had no idea. Taking deep breaths and wiping the sweat from his face with his forearm he broke the silence, "Ever boxed before, Bones? Wanna try?"

She took her boots off and came to stand by him on the mat. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, showing her how to hit the bag so she wouldn't injure herself, moving her body, guiding it into the right stance, the right positions. His hands lingering but never crossing too far over the line of appropriate, this was safe. His head tucked into her neck, his breath heavy by her ear. This wasn't Tracy's boyfriend's struggle this was his struggle, his fear, his torture and obviously it was hers also.

He moved around the bag to hold it for her, encouraged her as she proved a quick study, smiled at the spark it ignited in her eyes. He promised to bring her back and do more when she had the right clothes and could get the right gear so she wouldn't hurt herself. Joked with her, he was not going to be the one responsible for breaking the FBI's most valuable asset. And then she did, she turned her wrist just a bit and the angle strained and pulled. She gasped at the flash of pain. He caught it by the look on her face and grabbed the wrist quickly to check it out, pulling her body close to his. But she wasn't interested in the wrist. She could only see him, only see his strength, his love, devotion and she wanted it, all of it, and all of him. She pulled her wrist away bringing both hands to his face, tracing lightly the features she had admired for years. Willing him to understand the emotions she had a hard time understanding herself. Hoping he could see through them, see her wants, her needs. Because she didn't know how she could ever say to him I need you, I need you to touch me, not like you've been touching and holding me but intimately, like you love me. She was not sure she would ever have the ability to ask him for that even though that is what she wanted, that is what she knew she needed.

His hands fell to her waist coming to rest on her hips, with the tiniest bit of pressure, pulling her closer. Their faces brushing against one another lightly, he apologized for being sweaty. She raised her lips to his ghosting them, not touching, but begging silently. Her heart was racing pounding so hard it stole her attention. She almost missed his soft words, "I want to kiss you."

She pulled on him, closer, nodding her approval, barely able to speak, "I want you to kiss me."

It was so light, so soft that first kiss, it didn't even seem real but as she responded, as she kissed him back, opening herself to him, allowing him to show her the affection he had for her their kiss became more solid.

And then it was enough, enough for where they stood in the FBI gym, enough for two people finding their way through a difficult maze of emotions and fears, enough for that moment. He found himself cradling her in his arms rocking her back and forth just slightly, "let's go," he whispered in her ear, "let's go home."

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A/N Well, sometimes the world turns upside down...sorry it took so long to post this. Thank you for all the reviews they make my day...keep them coming...please let me know what you think

Thanks :)


	13. Chapter 13

Booth was ticklish.

She had never known that before today. It was Saturday and after their run they came home, did laundry, cleaned, ate lunch. When it seemed like there was a lull in activity and right before she could suggest heading to the Jeffersonian he pulled out a board game from the closet and asked her to play with him. It was Parker's favorite he said when she looked skeptically at him. She was hesitant. This was not her strong suit. Most children's games she had never seen or heard of before. Being a very competitive person, she avoided playing them now, feeling that she was at a grave disadvantage. But there was Booth and the game and those eyes, how could she resist.

Sorry, was the game, and right before she was about to win he knocked her all the way back to the beginning. He had batted his eyes. His whole expression was full of over exaggerated sorrow. Then he gleefully laid down the playing card that knocked her all the way back to the beginning, "Sorry, Bones!" In response she had knocked him to the living room floor where they were sitting and started tickling him. His laughter was surprising, almost outrageous. She couldn't help but laugh. It was like they were in a different world, a wonderful world. The lightness in her eyes, the fascination with his ticklishness, her giggles carried him away with her. He grabbed her with both hands pulling her lips to his and kissed her letting her hair fall around his face, cocooned in their moment.

Then his phone rang.

As he let her go he pulled himself up from the floor to grab his phone. She could see in his eyes the moment was over, yanked back into a harsh reality. He answered with his customary, "Booth."

Certain things had become routine. She could tell whenever he received a call about the case, her case. He always removed himself at least some distance from her but never completely out of sight. Today he went into the kitchen. Pacing, he always paced as he listened, back and forth. Then there were the nods and general acknowledgments of information. When he spoke it was always in hushed tones. Booth didn't want her overhearing, she knew that. He wanted to control what information she got, when she got it, and how it was given to her. She suspected that he had put everyone in her life under strict orders to tell her nothing. She didn't like it but she understood. Like it or not he was with her all the time, understood her moods, knew how to talk to her, how to help her process the information. And it wasn't like he was going to keep anything from her, she knew he wouldn't. She trusted him.

She had her own routine too. She would watch him, eyes glued to his every move. Wait, with her arms folded across her chest defensively. Listen as closely as she could to catch any stray word or phrase because as much as he would try to control the information coming out she would push for more. Today, though, her mind was still somewhat lost in Booth laughing under her tickling fingers. Her life had been turned upside down when she came back from Maluku by the presence of Hannah. She had barely gotten into some kind of groove when she had it was flipped over again by the Dr. Eames case. Once again she got her footing and now this. She had a hard time processing the vast differences, the extremes, of this life that was developing now. It seemed that things were either dark and twisted as she clawed her way through dealing with the rape or wonderful and beautiful like she was living someone else's life. How could they both exist, both be hers. She had a terrible time reconciling it all.

Booth said they weren't different, that life _was_ both. That people should fully enjoy those beautiful moments life gave them especially the ones in the middle of hard times they would help carry them through. He told her not to feel weird or guilty when they came, that she was just creating a new normal. At the moment she suspected he felt the dichotomy too as he hurled his phone across the room onto the couch. His body stiff and angry, she jumped when he punched the wall.

"Booth?" Her eyes carried her shock at his reaction to whatever he had just been told.

"No," she hadn't even asked but they both knew what she wanted to know, "Not now, just give me a couple minutes, okay?"

She sat back on her knees, hands on her thighs, and waited. He walked in circles like someone cooling down from a long hard run, slapping the corner of the wall hard a couple more times before coming to rest on it with his arm above his head, leaning his forehead against it.

"You need to get ready. We have to go to the Jeffersonian." Then he caught himself, his frustration and anger leaking out onto her. "I'm sorry, Bones, I'm not mad at you. You know that, right?'

"Yes, of course, I know that. But, Booth, what's going on?"

Shaking his head, he answered, "I just need a few minutes, Bones, I promise I will explain everything." Without another word he pushed himself off the wall and headed to his bedroom. She could hear him in the closet and drawers, every movement louder, brasher, angrier than normal. She let out her breath when she heard the bathroom door close. Then got up to get ready herself.

They were about to leave the apartment for the truck when he stopped, pulling her into a firm embrace, it was different, different than any embrace that he had given her over the last weeks it was fierce and needy.

"Booth? Are you okay?"

"I am now."

"Are you . . . scared, Booth?" he chuckled a little remembering a conversation long ago, a promise that he would hug her if he got scared. He didn't answer her though just held her tighter then pulled back just a little to look at her.

"New rule okay, Bones, I can hug you even if I'm not scared," she smiled and nodded.

Once they were settled in the truck he took her hand firmly in his and dove into the conversation.

"Your father's in town."

"You're mad because my father is in town?" very confused and slightly defensive, "I don't understand, Booth."

"I'm not mad that your father's in town, in fact, I was getting mad that he wasn't. I'm mad that he's been in town for a while, that he didn't come see you right away. I'm mad that he's been poking around your case when I told him specifically to keep his nose out of it. AND I'm really, really mad that he beat the shit out of someone today and got his ass arrested."

"Arrested?" she sounded exasperated.

"Arrested – lucky for him Detective Hollingsworth happened by and overheard him ranting about his baby girl the famous author and pieced it together. He pulled him out of booking and called Shaw. Shaw called me."

"That's why you're mad?"

"There's lots of reasons why I am mad about this, Bones. We've worked very hard to keep this out of the press until we file charges, you know that, and he may have just blown it. Now some flunky working at Metro who figures it all out is going turn a buck selling the story to TMZ."

"I don't know who that is."

"I know you don't but I do and it pisses me off." He didn't explain, he would explain later.

"Should I call my publicist and have them release the statement." Her eyes were closed, clenched shut. The press release had been written for some time, her publicist had it, waiting to be given word before releasing it. Dammit, this was the problem. This was his concern. He understood the way that Max thought and even respected it to one degree or another but Max wasn't thinking about how his actions affected Bones. He was just reacting, satisfying his own need. Of course Max wasn't there when she drafted the press release. Hadn't watched as she agonized over every word, the implication, the message it sent about her, the message it sent to other women, to other victims. Hadn't held her while she cried at the sheer amount of privacy she had lost in this whole mess and was willingly giving up by going public and pressing charges. Max was operating independent of all of that.

"Let me call Caroline first, see how close we are on charges, okay?" she took a deep breath and nodded in agreement.

The drive was spent in silence, she clung to his hand, he clung to hers.

And then when they were almost there he could feel her working up to a question, "are you going to arrest him?"

"No," he shook his head, "no, but I am going to have a rather aggressive conversation with him, set him straight on a few things."

"I'll talk to him, Booth, you don't have to."

"Well actually I do, not that you can't talk to him too but, Bones, I guess it's just a guy thing – we need to have a guy to guy kind of talk."

There was silence again, the build up to another question.

"Booth, do you know if he's planning on staying?"

She was so damned hard to read, "Do you want him to stay, Bones?" The relationship between the two had grown better over the years but she was still very guarded. He couldn't tell at all from her tone whether she wanted him to stay or not.

She turned her head away from him watching the city go by out the side window as they drove. Quietly she answered, "I don't know, Booth." She sounded lost in her own thoughts. Thoughts of abandonment and betrayal of reconciliation; she loved him, she did, but her feeling were still so complicated.

He continued to hold her hand, she continued to look out the window. The rest of their drive was spent in silence.

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A/N Special thanks to everyone for all the support and helpful reviews it all adds up to encouragement! And I have definitely needed encouragement :) special thanks also to Dharmamonkey, Givesup, & Craftyjhawk who have given me extra friendship and support during a wicked AS flareup and some serious anxiety over the next part of the story - love love love you!


	14. Chapter 14

Sorry, he had picked that game because Parker loved it so much. Now he couldn't help feel like the game was some sort of cruel joke for the day, maybe even the month. Booth thought he had held things together pretty well through this whole ordeal with maybe the exception of the interrogation room where he slugged the guy but who could blame him, right? But today, more than any day since this began he felt brittle. Today he felt robbed like the universe had slapped down the Sorry card and sent him reeling backwards. His rare and beautiful moment with Bones had been stolen away from him, from her. He had seen the shift and sorrow in her eyes when the phone rang, felt the tension settle back into her where it had been briefly displaced, too briefly. He held her hand tighter as he drove, clinging to her like a life line. She squeezed his hand back but never turned from her watch out the window.

His mind bounced. He couldn't shake his frustration with Max and the tension he felt over having to deal with him today. Max was hard for him. Booth believed in family, in loyalty to family. It was that belief that made him push her towards building a relationship with Max in the first place. And he pushed Max too, to be the father that she needed, to step up and fix what he had broken. While there was a lot about him that Booth was skeptical about at his core he felt like Max loved his daughter. Knew he loved her. He just had an odd way of showing it sometimes, good intentions bad choices. Part of Booth admired his vigilante defense of his family, in principle at least. Although he didn't agree with how he carried it out he understood where Max was coming from. In principle it was honorable in its own way. That is, it was honorable until it messed with the woman he loves, until it put in jeopardy the case against her attackers. It was all well and good until Max ended up hurting the person in whose name he's apparently acting. He had to remind himself to loosen his grip on her hand, worried that the more tension he felt the tighter his grip became. He didn't want to hurt her.

Brittle, he had to shake this feeling, she needed him to.

A couple deep breaths, he pushed off the endless onslaught of frustration by forcing his mind to go somewhere happier. He let his mind slide back to the floor of his apartment, her soft giggle and amusement at his ticklishness, the feel of his lips on hers, her hair cascading around him wisping across his face. That was a better place to be; he raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it gently. She turned her head from the window, cracked a small hesitant smile.

They were at the Jeffersonian, time to make it work regardless of his feelings.

As they got closer and closer to the medico-legal lab's sliding glass doors he felt her slow, the small of her back eventually pushing into his hand. They had been coming to the lab pretty much every day now, it had become routine to arrive early and disappear down into bone storage. So her hesitancy caught him off guard. He looked up through the doors to see what might be spooking her. It was Saturday and they had both expected the lab to be empty. That was one of the reasons Booth had chosen the lab for Metro's Hollingsworth to deliver Max into his custody. But it wasn't empty. The platform was buzzed with activity, Hodgins, Cam, and a couple of lab techs were up there. It looked like Angela was about to leave the platform when she saw Brennan and came bouncing down the steps towards her friend.

"Sweetie! I was going to call you but you're here!" She practically tackled Brennan into a warm hug. Brennan fought being stiff, forcing herself to relax into Angela's hug.

But she couldn't hide her stunned expression, still wide eyed, "yes, Ange, I am here. What did you need?"

"I have some sketches of possible snake tattoos based on what you told me. If you're up to it I wanted to see if any of them were close to what you remember." She hesitated glancing at Booth before continuing, "and some sketches of other possible markings I wanted to see if they rang a bell." Angela had been meeting with the other female victims, the ones that had agreed to participate in the investigation, piecing together any hints of information that might lead to the identity of her other attackers. Brennan wondered why people always asked her if she was up to it. Would there ever be a time she was really up to dealing with all this, she was pretty sure there wouldn't be. Even if she were having a great day and feeling on top of everything why would she want to plunge into this dark place and dig around? A good time to deal with it seemed ridiculous to her; regardless, she chose to deal with it.

Behind them the intensity of whatever Hodgins and Cam were looking at spilt over the sides of the platform and rolled towards them. Booth's eyes kept drifting up towards them. Angela missed nothing.

"Hey, Bren, do you think you could take a few minutes and look at them with me now?"

She nodded, "Yes, Angela, now would be fine." as her friend slipped her arm in hers and led her away to her office. Booth could hear Angela starting in on the latest piece of office gossip as they walked away from him. Angela was a great friend and excellent distraction. She had a way of keeping things light and Booth knew that if Bones started to sink Angela wouldn't hesitate to get him. He trusted her.

Cam immediately jumped on Booth, "we need to talk," her tone made him cringe. Sliding his card he headed up the stairs to where Cam was reviewing some test results.

"We got the final back on the rape kit." He had been waiting for this, everything before had been preliminary. But considering the nature of the attack piecing together the number of attackers and finding them was partially dependent of the results of the rape kit. It was the combination of those results and other physical evidence that would add up to a clearer view of what happened to Bones and the other victims for that matter.

"The confirmed kit indicates four different attackers. Three contributions were found from swabs on her body, hairs, sputum and one was found vaginally." Booth almost choked, he looked at Cam trying to be sure that she meant what he thought she meant. The news took him by surprise. He'd thought they were out of the woods on that one after finding the condoms. She nodded and continued. "You going to be okay, Seeley?" He was staring at the ceiling trying desperately to measure his breathing and control his rage.

"So altogether, we have 3 assailants that we have identified by DNA from the condoms and samples from the rape kit, swabs . . ." He put his hand up, motioned for her to stop, he understood. "And one," she continued haltingly, "a different assailant, we didn't know about before, whose semen they found in. . ."

He cut her off, "I got it Camille, I get it, okay? One of the guys didn't use a condom, left his stuff in her." His eyes darted around the platform, wanting desperately to pound or throw something, needing to release some of the pent up frustration and rage. There was nothing, everything here was clinical, expensive, and still somewhat foreign to him.

He doubled over, fighting for control. He is mind flashed to the morning after the attack, to the bottles of pills, the little foil wrapped morning after pills, her voice. _"Well, that is not true, Booth, I don't want to take any of these but it would be irresponsible for me to not take them."_ Visions of her shaking hands trying to get the pills from the foil wrapper haunted him now.

Brittle. Just really, really brittle.

Wiping the back of his hand across his mouth he straightened himself up and thanked Cam and Hodgins for their work. It was hard for them too, he knew that. Hodgins patted him on the back, a show of solidarity and brotherhood, "sorry, man." It was sincere, wrapped in its own mix of compassion and anger towards the whole situation.

He had barely pulled himself back together when he heard the slide of the doors and Max's gregarious voice came booming through the lab. It was clear that he had just about reached the punch line of a young Temperance story. Hollingsworth was clearly entertained, chuckling softly as he led the handcuffed man into the Medico-Legal lab.

Booth took a deep breath, brittle. He descended from the platform as Hollingsworth tossed him the keys to the cuffs. Booth caught them in an overhanded catch. Pushing Max up against the wall forcefully with his body he leaned into the man and talked very plainly into his ear. "Your daughter has been through enough, you pulling this crap is unacceptable understand?" He pulled Max's arms up behind him just a little to make the point. Max's involuntary grunt let Booth know he got it. "She should have been your first priority Max, seeing her should have come first. Now she has the stress of keeping you out of trouble on top of dealing with everything else." He tightened his grip on him again making it clear that he held all the cards. "You are going to go in there and make this right, do you understand me? Then you and I are going to talk. Got it?"

He released his grip on the man and undid the cuffs tossing them and the keys to Hollingsworth, "Thanks, man, for going the extra mile on this. I owe you one." He released Max from the wall where he had him pinned just before Angela and Bones poked their heads out of her office to see what the commotion was all about.

A/N not going to lie here folks these Max chapters have been really hard to write...I would LOVE to know what you think...please leave a review! They have been so helpful and encouraging and I appreciate them very much.

Also for those who have so kindly expressed concern for my mom here's an update - she is doing really well under hospice care. In fact, she has gained some weight and is now 84 lbs - amazing since she was very close to 70 when she went into the hospice program. Such a loving experience. thanks for you well wishes, thoughts, and prayers. They mean the world to me. :)


	15. Chapter 15

Max held out his arms to his daughter, "Tempe, come here." Booth smiled reassuringly at Bones encouraging her from behind Max. He could see the hesitancy in her stance. Max met her, bridging more than half the distance between them. He took her into his arms and held her tightly, "that's my girl." It was all too public for Bones, she pulled away from the embrace and motioned towards her office. Angela and Booth followed the two but hung back just outside of her door giving the father and daughter space to talk.

Booth looked like he was talking to Angela, he was trying to talk to Angela; but, really he couldn't help it he was watching Bones. His attention darting back and forth.

"I'm going to show you these, Booth, so you know what I'm showing Bren." Angela had brought her tablet out with her. She bumped his arm trying to pull his attention.

"Yeah, yeah, that's a good idea, Ange." She saw his focus drift.

Bones had carefully positioned herself in one of the chairs in her office, her dad on the couch. Maybe he was reading too much into it but it did seem like an intentional separation. He heard Max, "So, how's my baby girl holding up, huh?"

"I'm okay, dad. It's hard but," she took a hesitant breath, "I am better than I was." She tried to sound positive, "Booth is taking very good care of me."

Angela was talking and pointing at things on her screen but for the life of him Booth couldn't pull his attention off of the scene just beyond the glass in Bones' office. Bones was good, when she didn't want to answer something she was great at the dodge and here it came, "So how are Russ and Amy doing?"

No doubt she had learned from the pro though, "I want to know how you're doing, Tempe, there's plenty of time to talk about Russ and Amy later."

Her gaze fell to her hands as she fiddled with her fingers. She really didn't want to talk about how she was doing. She wasn't confident that she could even if she wanted to. "I would rather not talk about me right now."

She didn't know what to say or how to say it. It all seemed too personal, too revealing, she fought feeling overly vulnerable every minute of every day since the rape. And with him, with Max, her father, she was still torn between many very strong emotions surrounding their relationship. She didn't remember much before he abandoned her at 15 and he had only been back in her life for a relatively short period of time. She had no father for so many years that she didn't know how to talk to one now especially about something so violating and personal.

"I would really rather not," she echoed. She had finally looked up from her hands to her father almost as an act of punctuation to her statement.

Angela nudged Booth's arm. "I understand. We can do this later."

He looked down at her, "no, it's okay, Ange, can you back up a bit though, I wasn't really looking at the pictures?"

She chuckled softly, "why don't I start over. You're a little distracted there, big guy, understandably." Angela reset the slide show of images up to the beginning and then waited as she watched Booth's attention slide back into Bren's office.

"Okay, Tempe, it's okay. Well, what do you want to talk about, baby?"

"I am not a baby, Dad," her eyes closed tightly then opened to pierce him, "I haven't been for quite some time."

He countered faster than she had expected, "you are my baby and you always will be, even when you are an old woman." He kept that exuberant, positive exterior but was starting to get a grim picture of the state of his precious daughter.

"Is that the reason you felt the need to take the law into your own hands, because I am your _baby_?"

Angela and Booth looked at each other wide-eyed, shocked by the turn in the conversation. It seemed like forever since they had heard that kind of fire in her voice. Poor Max for being on the receiving end of it but they were both glad to see some of her fierce nature rising to the surface.

"Well, yes I suppose it is. No one hurts my baby girl and gets away with it, no one."

"Getting yourself arrested is not helpful, dad. Booth and the FBI will take care of justice. Please, just please, leave it to Booth." Booth puffed his chest out just a little and smirked. She trusted him to get justice for her. It felt good. Angela rolled her eyes at Booth's momentary cockiness. All that stopped though as they heard Bren's voice crack, "I cannot handle one more thing. I cannot handle you taking this on yourself to deal with or you being arrested because of me." Her plea was passionate and clear, "Please leave this alone, if you can't, then please just leave." She stood and started walking towards the door of her office.

"I'm sorry, Tempe," he started apologizing immediately while following her out.

"Thank you, dad, I accept your apology. Now, I know Booth wants to talk to you and I have some evidence to go over with Angela so if you'll excuse me. You are welcome to stay at my apartment while you are in town." She was trying not to break down in front of everyone; she was so tired of doing that. So she fought it as hard as she could, she just kept walking, forceful, strong pushing through it, "Ange, I am ready to go over those now." She nodded at Booth as she passed letting him know she was done, it was his turn for that man to man talk that he had been talking about on the way to the Jeffersonian.

Angela looked at Booth wide eyed and with a nod she was off following Bren.

Booth motioned to Max, they were headed upstairs to the lounge that overlooked the forensics platform. Private but public enough.

Max was an old fashioned man's man, as soon as he had gotten up the stairs he sought out an advantageous position in the lounge when he found it he turned abruptly and faced down Booth. Booth had been expecting it, anticipated it, had stopped seconds earlier not to be caught off guard. It wasn't that they had to be on opposite sides or even should be or for that matter were but there was always this sense that Max both embraced Booth and was adversarial towards him at the same time. Booth couldn't blame him, not really. He had arrested him. Though Max might say he surrendered to be close to Tempe. Booth would say he pushed him to that so he couldn't, so he wouldn't, leave her again.

The two men stared at each other.

"She's not right, Booth."

"You think I don't know that? You don't think I don't see how much it's changed her? If you were focused a little bit more on her maybe you'd see how hard she's fighting to get her life back." The images flew through his mind from that first night, he tried desperately to shake clear of them but today he just felt so raw, so brittle. This conversation wasn't helping.

"Are you saying I don't care about my daughter or know what she needs, that's what it sounds like. I love her, Booth, I would do anything for her, even go back to jail."

"She doesn't want you to go back to jail for her, Max. Not the way to show you love her. And to say you did it for her? Nice, lay on the guilt. Can't you see how it makes things worse?" Talking to Max was like talking to a brick wall, he understood the world only from his perspective. But he had to get this point across to him, for her.

"But I can give her something the system can't, Booth, it's not perfect, people get away with crimes all the time." That was rich, thought Booth, since he was staring right in the eye of one of those people that had gotten away with it and at the moment even though he knew that those men that Max killed were dangerous it wasn't any consolation. "There is _no _guarantee of justice for Tempe except through me. They need to die, Booth, I can do that for her." He stepped closer to Booth trying to make his point.

"No, you can't, Max, not without making things worse for her. Why can't you see that?"

"She's my baby, Booth, you would do the same for Parker." He took another step closer.

"Are you saying that I would blow into town and neglect to see my son? Or mess with a federal investigation for Parker?" He was so mad he was practically spitting while he talked, his jaw clenched tight. "Or maybe you're saying I would threaten witnesses or beat the living shit out of whoever I thought _might _have hurt him?" His breath was heavy and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't seem to pull back. "Because you are wrong, Max, I wouldn't do any of that. I'd work within the system."

"You are crippled by your blind faith in the system, Booth, I'm not."

Brittle things break, they snap. Booth snapped. Before he even had completed the thought his fist connected with Max's mouth. The older man stumbled back a few steps before regaining his balance, blood streaming down his mouth and chin.

Booth found himself doubled over again, hands resting on his knees trying desperately to catch his breath and regain control. He hated losing it more than just about anything in the world. Justified or not it always made him feel twisted, caught in the legacy of his father.

Max stepped back and watched, taken by what he now saw playing out on Booth's face and across his body. He hadn't caught it before, how absolutely exhausted Booth looked. His mind worked backwards through the day, Booth's watchful hovering outside Tempe's office. The stress and tension in the man's body evident when that Metro cop first brought him in. Booth straightened himself up, rubbed his fist. He kicked the base of a chair as he passed by it, and headed down the stairs without saying a word. He stopped before reaching the bottom and sank down onto the steps, resting his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. Max had followed him, grabbing some napkins on the way to clean up some of the blood. He sat down next to him.

Booth was rubbing his hands over his face when Max finally spoke, "Thanks for taking care of her." Booth nodded.

They were still sitting in relative silence on the stairs when Cam walked up. She looked at the two men shaking her head with an undertone of exasperation, "Hey, Max why don't you let me take a look at that, maybe clean it up a little for you." she shot Booth a look motioning towards Dr. Brennan's office with only her eyes. They had gotten pretty heated, Booth was pretty sure the whole lab had to have heard. After a long heavy sigh he pulled himself from the stairs and headed to check on Bones.


	16. Chapter 16

He just stood there at the doorway to her office, hands in his pockets, head held low. Going over what had happened with Max, dreading the conversation to come with Bones. Wanting to rewind the day to it's beginning and live in the moment of their game of Sorry. He watched her as she paced the back half of her office, nervously biting at her fingers. God, he just loved her and at that moment, more than anything he wanted the feel of her in his arms. She must have thought the same thing because when she lifted her eyes to his they were both moved forcefully. They collided into a firm embrace their lips immediately found each other in a moment of total abandon. It was different. It was needy. In some kind of smooth country two step as he moved her carefully but quickly to the most concealed corner of her office. He wanted this moment to be theirs, no interruptions this time.

Having been stolen away momentarily by his own need, now coming back to his senses he whispered his concern, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I just," she struggled, "I missed you." His lips fell on hers again fueled by her honest declaration. He hadn't been this out of control with her before. They had shared the kiss in the gym and a couple other ones here and there like today on his living room floor. Good morning kisses, good night kisses. All of them careful, cautious, and controlled. This felt nothing like control, he loved it and it scared the hell out of him all at the same time. He felt his heart race, pounding in his chest, he felt her's race beneath his hands.

"Me too," pulling at her, trying to maneuver any direction that would bring them even the slightest bit closer.

His kisses slowed, he found himself with his head buried in her neck. Breathing her, every bit of her, trying to find the strength he needed. Still resisting the place he had to go next. Wanting to put it off just a little longer. While he knew he had to tell her about the results of the rape kit, he didn't want to. It had already been a long horrible day, he couldn't help resisting a few moments longer.

She could feel his hesitancy and waited.

"I have to tell you something," he breathed heavily into her embrace, "two things." Holding her tightly.

"I know," she whispered back pulling him tighter to herself, "I know, everyone's behavior would indicate that there is something unpleasant that has come to light." She tried to sound calm about it but she shifted her weight back and forth. "Angela is hovering and trying to distract me. Hodgins and Cam are avoiding me, even eye contact, it would seem. Not to mention that they all look agitated and deeply troubled."

"I hate this, you know. Bones, I hate this more than, well, I can't think of anything in the world I hate more than this right now." She could feel him in her arms – so strong, every muscle so tense, but so tired, so worn out. All for her. For the first time in along time she felt strong enough to give some back.

"Just tell me Booth, just tell me and we'll get it over with, together."

One hand holding her to him along her lower back one twisted in her hair holding her head to his shoulder and chest. "Okay, okay," he took a long deep breath. Okay,so the final on the rape kit came back." He carefully tuned into her, her breathing, her heart rate, every muscle in her body, waiting to monitor her reactions spoken and unspoken. "The results," he thought he should frame it in scientific terms, that maybe it would be easier but it just poured out, "there was another rapist, Bones, a fourth one. One, that," his heart ached, "one that didn't use a condom."

Closing her eyes tight as she listened to his almost gasping exhale after the news, He sucked back in quickly like you might do if you were swimming in the ocean and saw a wave coming to crash over you. There was no doubt that much of this experience felt like struggling not to drown. Today she was keenly aware that it was not just her that was struggling to stay afloat, she wasn't alone in that battle, Booth was right there with her.

She tried to be reassuring to him, "It's more common for rapists to go without a condom, in fact, it's only been a trend for them too use them over the last 5 to 10 years," she was trying so hard to be strong but her body betrayed her carefully worded science. "because of the risk of disease, they think." Her breaths were getting more and more shallow. "I didn't expect them to find another set of DNA." He found he was supporting more and more of her body weight as she started to go limp in his arms. The strength draining out of her.

"I'm sorry, Bones, I'm so sorry." her breaths were ragged, staggered, "Hey are you okay? Do you need to sit down?" she didn't answer so he just held her, rocked her gently in the quiet corner of her office.

"I'm so sorry, baby." he comforted her with small gestures of love, gentle strokes, reassuring words, small soft kisses. "Just talk to me please, Temperance, just let me know what you're thinking."

"I just don't know," she stammered over her words, "I just can't answer that. I just have to think, Booth."

The memories of her unanswered calls and hours of searching for her flooded his mind. The worry and panic he felt when he couldn't find her, begging God to help held her tighter. _Don't run, baby, please, don't run, _it played on a loop in his mind, an unspoken plea. It was selfish he thought; but, he couldn't handle her running away from him again, especially not today. He couldn't handle one more thing today.

"Booth, I'm not going to run off again, I promise." She felt him relax in her arms, "I just don't know how or what I feel about all of that, I don't know what to say." He felt her breath even, felt her take back control of her weight. "I need time to think, to process it, is that alright? I promise if I need time alone to do that I will tell you."

"Sure, yeah, that's, of course that's okay, Bones. Of course."

Slowly their grip on each other loosened as he left light kisses along her forehead with faint reminders that he was hers and always would be as long as she would have him. Their bodies slowly untangled until they were standing face to face, fingers intertwined, he kept whispering to her, telling her how strong she was, how her brave fight everyday did not go unnoticed, he saw it. It strengthened him.

Finally she interrupted, "there was a second thing, Booth, you said there was a second thing." she pushed with a questioning tone.

"Yeah," he looked worried and hesitant and she couldn't help feeling like she had to brace herself for the next wave.

"Bones, I'm really sorry," he shifted his weight, "I punched your old man."

It took a moment for what he said to register.

"My father, Max?" her eyes were wide, "are you,okay?"

"Me? Yes, Bones, of course_ I'm_ okay. Your dad, well," he couldn't help but smirk a little.

She grabbed him by his left hand pulling him to the couch. He watched with fascination as she took his right hand in both of hers, turning it around, pressing and feeling each joint and bone from his fingertips up. Wincing involuntarily several times as she hit sensitive spots. "Bones, really, I'm fine."

"I just want to make sure, Booth."

She was feeling his palm and headed towards his wrist when her father appeared in the doorway. They didn't notice. All of her attention was on Booth and his hand. All of his attention was on her. Adoringly he reached out with his left hand and tucked a stray chunk of hair behind her ear that had fallen down as she bent over his right.

Max cleared his throat, "Tempe, honey, whenever you're ready to go home I'm ready to take you." He took a couple confident steps into her office. Always cheery, always positive, "Maybe we can stop by and get you some snicker-doodles at that vegan bakery you like on Park. What was the name of that place? Something about fingers," he laughed at himself, "you know my once great mind has snapped." He was watching his daughter and Booth carefully, "Sticky Fingers! That's the name!" A couple more steps forward, "Maybe I'll make you some vegetarian lasagna for dinner, huh Tempe, what do you think about that?"

She'd gone from examining Booth's hand to almost crushing it. She believed that Max was wanting to take her home, to her apartment, and stay there with her. That is what he seemed to be indicating. Her father's offer was a loving gesture but one she hadn't anticipated. Despite how she thought she should feel by such an offer she found herself feeling panicky at the thought of not having Booth close to her. She looked desperately up at Booth. He ran the back of his knuckles softly along her jaw line and mouthed to her that everything would be okay.

Max watched the two carefully, ran his fingers along his swollen lip as knowing smile broadened across his face.

Finally the two turned their attention to Max.

"Dad," one simple word filled with so much conflicting emotions. Frustration, exasperation, questioning, concern it all leaked out in her tone and expression into that tiny word. "What did you say to him?" She glanced several times back and forth from Max's mouth to Booth's hand.

"Tempe, honey, everything is just fine between Booth and me."

She looked at him skeptically and then she did this thing she did, she pulled her shoulders back just a little squaring them then, pulled them back again, squared them again as she raised her eyebrows in a way that screamed disbelief and dared derision. Without a word she let it be known that she would not be messed with, she expected an answer, and it had better be good.

Both men set about assuring her that things between them were settled. Talking over each other trying to convince her there was no need to rehash it. She finally relented, admitting that she really didn't understand, she would have to take their word for it. She finally got them to stop trying to convince her. The room fell silent momentarily.

"Hey, you know what, honey," She cut him off. She didn't want to hurt him but she knew she needed Booth right now. Quietly she stood and went over to stand in front of her father.

She took a deep breath, "Dad, I need to stay with Booth right now." He had seen it, when he came into her office. At that very moment when he was offering her homemade lasagna and Sticky Finger cookies. He'd seen it in the way Booth tucked her hair behind her ear, the adoration on his face, combined with the deep unabated exhaustion evident in his eyes. He'd seen it in her relaxed, comfortable demeanor when she thought she was alone with Booth, no one watching. She trusted him. Booth's was where she needed to be. But by then, by the time he recognized it, the offer, the assumption that he would take over her care, was already out there hanging heavy in the room.

"It's okay, baby, I can see that. I was just thinking that actually, that maybe I should just stay where I've been staying. Give you some space, Tempe, not hover over you like an old mother hen. You're such a fighter, baby, I'm so proud of you." he took a deep breath, looked at the two, Tempe standing in front of him, Booth behind her, something he'd wanted for his daughter for a long time. "Take good care of her, Booth."

He was obviously moving towards another goodbye. While she didn't want to stay with him right now she felt that old familiar twinge that screamed he was going to leave her and she didn't want that either. She jumped at him with an offer, "You can still stay at my apartment, dad. In fact, it would help to have someone there. As long as you're going to be in town," but she didn't want him to stay out of obligation or because she made him feel guilty about leaving, "or as long as you would like to stay, until you are ready to go home, I mean."

"Thanks, baby. I think I'll take you up on that." He smiled that charming smile and took her into his arms. "I'm sorry, Tempe," he glanced over his daughter shoulder at Booth who shot him back an approving nod, "I'm really sorry."

Booth stood, "Hey, you know, Max, we were going to stop by there on our way home to pick up some stuff Bones needed anyways, maybe we could just drop you off at her apartment. Save you a cab fare."

He patted the older man on the shoulder as they walked out of the Jeffersonian.

* * *

A/N yeah! Max has left the building! Sorry, he was very hard for me to write for and I am happy to have him gone until later in the story!

Once again I really _really_ appreciate reviews - I am many things but a mind reader is not one of them - so please leave a review - good or bad - and let me know what you thought about this chapter. Not gonna lie - the next chapter I had a lot of fun with...I think you'll like it...hope so anyways...I'll post the next chapter first part of next week!


	17. Chapter 17

They were finally home and the simple release of tension and stress that occurred when they walked through the front door of Booth's apartment was tangible. They settled their belongings, put away groceries, hung up the clothes they had brought from Bones' closet neatly into Booth's closet. He told her he was going to make her dinner, his favorite comfort food, a soup his grandma used to make him. She told him she was going to take a long hot bath, wash away the day, and think. He knew she had a lot to think about.

Baths and showers. They hadn't addressed them with Sweets yet. He knew enough to understand why she wanted them, needed them. They were excessive still but because their schedule was getting busier many times it was more the amount of times she talked about it that caught his attention. On hard days like today she would frequently slip just a small little mention about being hardly able to wait to get home to one into their conversations. There were so many things that needed to be addressed, though. This one seemed like more of a coping mechanism, something she could actually do that made her feel better. She was trying so hard, fighting so hard to regain control and he knew as she did this she would bury and hide some of what she was thinking and feeling, pretending that everything was alright. It made the baths a great indicator for him, a gauge that let him know how she was really doing. He had decided to pretty much leave the subject alone for the time being.

So he kissed her on the forehead and left her to her bath going off to take his frustration over the long day out on a cutting board and fresh vegetables.

It was quiet except for the Eagles playing softly in the background, the soup was finally altogether and cooking on low, it had been a long time since he had seen or heard anything from Bones, too long. It seemed like a good time to go check on her. Booth rinsed his hands, wiped them on the hand towel he had sitting on his table, threw it over his shoulder, and walked down the hall.

He leaned up against the door frame taking in what he thought might be the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. It was mostly dark in the room but enough light was peaking through from the hall to see her, lying on his bed, wrapped in what appeared to be only his top sheet. The towel she had used after her bath strewn beneath her. He was struck by the moment. Wanted to hold it, freeze it. When Max had finally shown up he wasn't sure how it would effect them. Knowing Max he knew he'd want to take over. What father wouldn't want to take their daughter home to care and protect? Since the moment he had gotten the call from Shaw he wondered if Max offered whether she would go back to her apartment with him. All day how he had tried to gauge how he would react to that. He couldn't bare the thought of not being there for her, with her or the thought of her not being here with him.

It had been hard enough this week to leave while she was in limbo and make an appearance at the Hoover for a couple of hours each day. Angela, Hodgins, and Cam had endured patiently his constant reminders to call him if she was having trouble. Not to mention his texts for updates on what she was doing, how she was. He didn't want to hover but at the same time he worried. He knew how quickly she could go from okay to not okay at all. The thought of not being there for her when that happened or when she had a nightmare or when she got angry or panicked quite frankly scared him.

Soft breaths, her stillness, a little peace for her, her decision to stay with him, this beautiful sight, sent a soft smile across his face. She felt safe here, the realization filled him. So he stood there for a few minutes the music and lyrics winding down the halls of the the small apartment swirling around him as he watched her sleep. He let out a deep contented breath and pushed himself off the door jam.

He took a couple steps into the room. He had been right, he could see now that she was barely covered in his sheet, it twisted, draped around her like like a flowing Greek gown. When he moved, the door opened a little wider, the light from the hall came streaming across her pale exposed skin, it was breathtaking.

She squinted hard when it hit her eyes, "Booth?"

He took a couple more steps towards the bed and sat down his hip settled into the hollow of her waist. Swallowing hard, "how was your bath?" his fingers gently moved the bits of damp bangs that still clung to her forehead.

She blinked a couple of times and smiled, "good. I just wanted to cool down a few minutes before dressing. I must have fallen asleep."

"It was a long day." intentionally or not he found himself tucking the sheet around her, adjusting it here and there, fiddling with it. The feel of her skin beneath his fingers made it hard to breath, hard to think. Given the delicateness of their situation it made it hard to navigate.

"Yes, it was very long," she looked away her gaze, her thoughts, all seemed suddenly pulled from him. Her voice trailed off, "long." They hadn't really talked about the results of the rape kit, the revelation of a 4th rapist, her dad's presence or his assumption that she would stay with him. She was like the ocean, calm on the surface but a raging current underneath. He knew her well enough to know that her undertow was strong tonight whether she said anything about it or not.

Her eyes shot back grabbing his, "hold me." It was such a simple honest plea and in just about every way he wanted to curl around her and do just that but she was wearing nothing but a sheet, his sheet.

"Yeah, okay, why don't you get dressed," she cut him off.

"No, now, like this." his eyes widened, he rubbed his fingers back and forth along his brow trying to figure out a way around this unexpected hot spot.

"Bones."

"I'm wrapped in the sheet, Booth, really what is the difference between me wearing the sheet and me wearing clothes?"

He let out a nervous laugh, "Seriously?" his fingers traced her collar bone dipping lightly picking at the sheet where it laid across her chest. "You don't see a difference?"

Sometimes he just wondered how someone so intelligent could be so naive. Sometimes he wondered if she was playing him, using her naivety, but most of the time he was sure she just really didn't get it. This was one of those times where he was sure she really didn't get it but he definitely felt tortured.

"Bones, the difference is," he looked down into those big blue eyes waiting for some reasonable explanation from him, "well you see, Bones, when you're . . ." he let out a long breath. "It would be hard on me, hard for me to control," damn that was the wrong choice of words, "certain reactions." She was just laying there listening intently letting him twist in the wind trying to explain himself. "Bodily reactions, Bones, I'm a guy. I'm still a guy and laying here with you in my bed with you in nothing but my sheet." he rushed through the rest, "I'm not going to be able to control those reactions."

"I trust you," simple enough, she pinned him with those eyes, "I feel safe," then she waited silently.

"Well, yeah, but it would be obvious."

"It's a natural physical reaction, Booth, there is no reason to be ashamed of having an erection it simply shows that you are a normal healthy postpubescent male. Sex is largely a biological function and our physical reactions to the opposite sex are largely controlled by those functions. It insures the survival of the species. It is only natural that you would have a biological response to my physical proximity, especially since we have shared very close quarters recently. I know you have had erections from my proximity before, recently. Even though I didn't feel that it was necessary to mention it I did recognize them."

He couldn't contain his groan of frustration, "I appreciate that," he didn't mean it to but his voice was strained and starting to get an edge to it. "And of course I'm healthy, Bones, that's not my . . ."

"Arousal is simply a natural part of the biological process that leads to sex and climaxes in orgasm. In fact, many people recovering from rape struggle with guilt associated with experiencing that arousal during the assault."

"Bones?" His voice softened with concern.

"Often they feel as if their biological response indicates that they desired it or wanted it but it really has nothing to do with desire. It is all biological and once initiated beyond their ability to physiologically control."

"Bones, what are you trying to say?"

"In fact, studies in the 90s showed that rapists themselves were largely opportunistic. Rape being mostly perpetrated by men who experience a generally normal sex drive and are largely not sexual sadists as previously thought."

"Bones," he pulled back a little, "did you just say I'm a healthy man with a normal sex drive and potential rapist!" He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand while shaking his head in disbelief. Trying to control his reactions. He wondered if she had some memory of arousal during the rape, worried that she was feeling guilty. Why would she bring this up if it wasn't eating at her, there must me a reason. He was at a complete loss for what exactly she was trying to tell him. Why couldn't she just say what she meant? Why did everything important have to be so rational, logical, distant, carefully couched in science?

She reached out to him trying to pull his hands back to her, wanting to pull his hands back to her, frustrated with her own inability to communicate

"No, Booth, of course not." It came out almost like a plea, "No, I told you I feel safe with you. As I have told you in the past there is no one I feel more safe with than you. I was not saying that you were the kind of man that would be an opportunistic rapist, that's not what I meant." She closed her eyes intently, "You are a good man, Booth. I just meant that all sexual experiences consensual or not have their foundation in simple biology."

"Rape is not about sex, Bones, it's about control and power. It's about taking not giving. Intimacy, making love, is about giving, loving, respecting and showing that love to someone that feels the same way, someone who is giving that back. It's mutual and so much more than just biology." he was hesitant still not sure what she was trying to convey but as he talked he brought his hand back gently to her shoulder letting it rest there tracing small circles with his rough fingertips. "And I don't want to put you in any kind of position where you might feel any pressure from me towards anything that isn't mutual."

she nodded.

"when you touch me, when you kiss me," she watched carefully for his attention pausing, waiting for him. "It is more than just a physiological experience. I can't explain it. It's not rational. I don't understand it." Slightly distressed, she looked into him almost like she was searching for an explanation in him, from him, "It changes me, Booth." She looked away, "nothing will change what happened to me. Three rapist or four, condoms or no condoms it happened. But when you touch me I feel safe again and I feel," she looked back at him, it felt connected, bonded, "it doesn't take it away, the rape, but, it makes me better."

He nodded.

"You trust me," he motioned for her to scoot over in the bed and laid down beside her opening his arms inviting her in.

"Yes," she settled in his arms.

"You know in Sweets' office, the session that we had with him after we met with Tracy?"

"Yes."

"I don't really know how her boyfriend feels. That was how I felt, how I feel." He said what she couldn't say, "I'm scared, Bones, scared that I will make things worse for you. I'm scared that I'll hurt you even though I don't mean to. I'd never hurt you on purpose, you know that right?"

"I know you wouldn't, Booth," she felt his hands start to move, long strokes along her back

"I'm not ready to make love with you, not yet, okay.?" the sheet slipped but he didn't stop. She felt his hand roll over her bare skin, sinking lower until those long strokes went from the top of her back down below her waist and onto her bare hip. "Is this okay?"

"Yes."

"You have to tell me, Bones, if it's not okay. You have to promise to tell me."

"I promise," her breathing became uneven her chest shuddered as she fought back tears. She wondered what on Earth she had done to deserve such a wonderful man. "Booth, I don't really know what Tracy was thinking either."

"I know, baby, I know," he pulled her towards him and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, "I know."

* * *

A/N Thanks to all you for your continued reading, support, encouragement, and _reviews. _Those reviews help so much - especially when it gets hard, difficult to write or I get nervous, absolutely convinced the next chapter is going to ruin the whole story. The reviews help me know when I've hit the mark and expressed what I wanted to and keep me writing :)


	18. Chapter 18

A cool breeze blew around her, swirling, lifting, calming. Light softly touched her skin, illuminating her. Her breaths were deep and peaceful. Closing her eyes she leaned into it and felt the breeze on her cheeks, her soft curls lifted in the air, her skirt waved gently. It was better, beautiful and then it wasn't.

Without warning the heat was oppressive, damp, heavy, the weight pulled everything about her down. Moving became arduous, painfully slow, almost paralyzing. She needed to move, she needed to run but the more she tried the more trapped she became. Walls closing in, brick, rough, brash, unyielding. Just when it seemed she might break free, escape, sinewy dark tentacles reached up from the ground wrapping around her. First one leg then the other climbing her body until all of her was being grabbed. Thrashing she tried to free herself. Pushing, shoving, kicking at them as they came at her from above, from below, from every side. Baring down on her, pulling her down, overtaking her one fibrous restraint after another.

Her chest heaved, gasping for air. She tried to scream, tears streaming down her face, clearing ashy trails through the grime that had come to cover her once beautifully pale skin. Everything this evil touched became stained and filthy. Her cries, her pleas for help silenced. Her mouth gaping open trying to reach out for help but like her body was paralyzed, constricted.

"Booth," mouthed over and over by her lips begging for reprieve, for help.

Skin crawling, twitching, jerking as foreign hands snaked over, around, under her clothes relentless, violating, prying her apart. Leaving her open, vulnerable. She was powerless to win, bound tightly, but she kept fighting. Kept writhing against her captors, begging wordlessly for Booth.

Then he was there but so far away, too far away to stop it, too far away to help her. No matter how fast he ran, no matter how hard he pushed, he couldn't get closer, couldn't reach her. Helplessly watching as this evil eclipsed her. Clawing at air, at time, at space to get to her. Fists pounding at the impenetrable force keeping him from her. Eyes darting, heart pounding, racing.

Limp, fading into dirty ground, she was exhausted, overtaken. He screamed her name, begged her to hold on, pushed harder, hit harder, fought harder finally breaking towards her. Thrashing through every obstacle.

Beating, pulling, twisting in the sheets until in the dream he knelt over her, both hands greedily ripping the twisted tethers that bound her from her body. Feeling her fade, slipping away from him. Pleading with her to stay, to fight, to live. He couldn't get them off fast enough, he couldn't stop it from happening, couldn't save her.

Screaming her name, sheets soaked by sweat pouring from him, heart pounding, eyes searching, darting, breath forced, panting, he bolted upright in complete and utter panic. She launched herself at him.

"Booth, it's okay. I'm okay. I'm here. I'm safe. You saved me." Over and over she told him, "I'm safe. You saved me." In a calm even tone, never letting him go, holding him tight. Her hands rubbing firmly along his back and arms. Feeling every muscle tense, pulled tight.

He sat stiff, completely rigid. He pulled himself from her, standing. His hand wrapped around her cheek, warm brown eyes begging for understanding, "I need a few minutes. I need some space." He was still trying to regulate his breathing, she noted, and his muscles were still taught, his jaw still ticking.

She nodded her acceptance, then added her support, "Whatever you need, Booth, whatever I can do for you."

"Just a little time to calm down, Bones," and then he was gone out of the bedroom. He left the door open, his way of letting her know he wasn't completely shutting her out.

It wasn't unfamiliar to her. Nightmares, night terrors, whatever you wanted to call them was something they shared, a terrifying commonality. There was a time, it seemed so long ago now, when it wasn't uncommon for one of them to call the other in the middle of the night. They would never talk in detail about the dreams, it was enough to hear the others' voice, to know that someone else knew and understood. Booth never called right after he woke like she had, though. He'd always waited until he had calmed down, until he'd regained control. It was harder being here when it was happening, she noted, allowing him the space he desired when all she wanted was to hold him and tell him everything was okay.

She busied herself. She cleaned up a couple items that had been knocked on the floor, changed the bedding. She had gotten him a fresh t-shirt, in case he wanted to change later. She had paced and sat and stood until she found herself about to chew on her fingers again. She dropped her hand from her mouth, she couldn't wait any longer. Finally, she gave in to her own curiosity, the urgency to check on him. Peeking down the hall into the living room she saw him slumped on the couch holding a tumbler with a small amount of scotch in it. Leaning her head against the wall she watched him as he slowly sipped at the drink, the strength of it written across his face with each swallow. Eventually, he looked up catching her eye, stared at her for a moment, then motioned for her to come to him.

Reaching out for her hand he pulled, maneuvered her onto his lap. One hand around her waist, one along her legs rubbed gently up and down her thigh. At the moment he wasn't sure if he was comforting her or himself, maybe both of them. Regardless of her strong exterior he knew that she was worried about him, about his dream. They sat in silence for a few minutes. Tender, consoling touches, reassurances to each other that spoke louder than any words could have in this moment. He laid his head on her chest setting his ear carefully against her, he was listening to her heartbeat. His eyes fell softly closed, he let the even sound remind him that it was only a dream, she was here, she was safe, they were okay. She melted, bent her body around his.

She wished she could quiet her mind but while they sat in silence her mind frantically cataloged all the information she could remember about night terrors and nightmares. Searching for the trigger, his trigger. "Shhhh," he whispered to her, "stop thinking, Bones, just be here with me."

But she couldn't. She was the obvious answer, the only answer. She had asked too much of him, she'd done this to him. Her thoughts wrapped around themselves moving in circles creating complicated knots, irrevocable knots. In that moment she felt the weight of what she had told him on the steps of the Hoover over a year ago. He was the one that needed protecting from her. She clung to him until her anxieties turned to apologies, "I'm sorry, Booth, I'm so sorry." She couldn't help it, her honest fears poured out, "I should have gone, I'll go, you've done so much for me, too much." And he felt her start to push away. "I've asked too much of you." It shook him to his center, turned his stomach to think of her leaving, her being anywhere but with him. A physical emotion, a sucker punch to the gut.

Barely audible he whispered against her chest, "No, Temperance, No" His arms pulled around her, tightening as they moved. Touching lightly at first then stronger, firmer. His hand running up her back pushing her body firmly to his as it slid along her spine, "No, you don't understand, it's not you. This wasn't because of you."

He was right, she didn't understand. He could feel her confusion. He pulled back so he could see her face, make eye contact with her as he explained but truth was he didn't know how to explain, not in a way that he could be sure she understood.

"Will you tell me about it, about your dream?"

"No," dark images flew through his mind, yanking at him, "no, I won't, Bones, I can't."

"But it was about me?" it seemed that she was both confirming that the dream was about her and pointing out that she had a right to know because it was about her at the same time.

He nodded and with a long deep sigh exhaled his deepest fear, "I couldn't get to you," his eyes carried the depth of his regret, "in time." He looked defeated, felt defeated.

"Booth." there was a deep tenderness to her voice, she didn't want him to suffer like this.

He let one hand come back down to her hip and thigh, running it along her bare skin, playing with the hem of her sleep shorts. Sleepy circles over her skin almost worked, he felt her relaxing almost involuntarily into his touch. But the truth, she's a very persistent woman, not so easily distracted. After a long stretch of relaxed silence he felt her gearing back up.

"Booth," she took a moment to re-situate herself on his lap, sat up a little taller, he could feel she was leading into something, going somewhere that he was pretty sure he didn't wanted to go, especially tonight. "We should talk about your dream."

"Bones, I don't want to talk about it, it's over, it's done, moving on." he motioned in the air with his hands indicating he was moving forward.

"We have to talk about it, you have to tell me, it was about me. You don't want to talk about it because I was right, you do need protecting from me. You don't want to talk about it because you don't want me to feel bad for hurting you. But I do, I do feel bad. I don't want to hurt you." It took him a minute to catch up, her hurting him, him needing protection from her. He had never agreed with her, always seen it as her excuse, a noble reason given in haste to avoid commitment. But for it to come up now, she must have really felt it on some level.

"No, you've got it all wrong, Bones, it wasn't you being here that caused that dream. It was the thought of you not being here, of losing you, of being too far away to stop it, of not being able to stop it."

"You mean today, with Max? You thought I might go with Max."

He nodded, "today with Max, today with the . . ." he let out a heavy sigh, "kit, the results of the. . . . You know, I have worked so many cases. It's not like I haven't heard these kind of results, facts, evidence, whatever you want to call it, but it's different, you know, it's you."

"I think we should talk about us, you and me, where this is going." It was a jump he hadn't anticipated at all.

She pursed her lips just a tiny bit, raised her eyebrows ready to argue. His body went almost limp in protest, slumping back down into the couch, "no, not tonight, Bones," his head fell to the back of the couch, his eyes stared at the ceiling then fell shut. He had already talked about more than he wanted to or intended to. He wanted to hold her, feel the warmth of her in his arms, listen to her heartbeat, the strong even sound of her. He didn't want to talk. "Besides there's nothing to talk about you know how I feel, I've told you, and I think I do a reasonably good job of showing you every day," he was tired and exasperated by the thought that she didn't know where he stood, "at least I try." His hand left her back went to rubbing along his brow line.

"You do, Booth, and I know, but, we haven't talked about where this is leading. I haven't told you how I feel, where I stand."

"You don't have to, Bones, no pressure from me, I promised you that. I meant it."

Surprisingly timid, "I want to," a deep breath for courage, "I need to and I think you need me to. I think you deserve that." It came out louder, stronger than even she expected. Her hands played with the his t-shirt, the soft cotton knit pliable as she bent and twisted it anxiously.

He opened his eyes skeptically bringing them to meet hers, she could see the concern in them, maybe even a bit of fear.

"You know that I have not been one to believe in monogamous long term relationships, it is a concept that I have admittedly struggled with," if this was supposed to be making him feel better it wasn't working.

She felt his hands tighten.

"You know that I have never been the 30, 40, 50 year type?" He acknowledged her with a nod. "I am still not sure I am ready for that kind of commitment." She watched his throat tighten as he swallowed hard, felt the physical changes in his body as he emotionally braced himself. She couldn't help it, she reach out her fingers, lightly traced his strong, drawn jaw. Her palm came to rest on the side of his face, she sat for a moment feeling his jaw pulse below her fingers then pulled him into a kiss. Her kiss, initiated by her, full of passion and pain, then murmured against his lips, "I love you, Booth." Her breath was heavy, weighted by her admission. He felt her fingers on his neck, in his hair, clinging to him. "I love you and I want you to know that, I want you to know that I want to try, I am ready to try. While I cannot say that we will have 30 or 40 or 50 years I can say I want this now, today, this week, and as long as . . ." He cut her off with a hard long kiss, she'd said enough.

As it turned out maybe he did need to hear what she had to say. Even though he had told her he loved her, even though he had tried to show her down to the tiniest details of his actions. Even though he said she could reciprocate as much or as little as she wanted, at her pace, in her time. Hearing her say it, knowing that she wanted what he wanted did make a difference. He pulled her in, wrapped her up in himself like he had so many times over the last month only this time, he whispered back, "I love you too."

There was a freedom in those words, in saying them, in hearing them. He had thought them countless times, held them in not wanting to pressure her or make her uncomfortable. He had relied on his actions to speak for him. But tonight, now, he didn't have to hold them in. They settled into the couch, now her mind was clear, now she could just be here with him.

A few deep breaths and she was asleep. He enjoyed the peace of holding her for a few more minutes then carried her into the bedroom where he found the fresh linens on the bed, turned down ready for their return. Settling her, he pulled the blankets around her to tuck her in. The clean t-shirt was neatly folded, waiting for him, it made him smile. Reaching behind him he pulled his shirt off, the one that earlier had been drenched in sweat from his nightmare, he tossed it into the dirty clothes. He'd been careful, stayed clothed, even though it had been his habit to sleep shirtless, he hadn't since he brought her home from the hospital. Conscientious for her sake. Picking up the new shirt, he stared down at it in his hands then moved it, setting it carefully aside on the dresser. Coming back, he crawled into bed. As if on cue she turned into him, curling up in his arms, her hand working its way across his bare skin. Her fingers exploring, her cheek nuzzling into his chest, her soft sighs of approval made everything different, everything better.

* * *

A/N Sorry this update took so long - I am now officially no longer ahead in writing this story. I guess it was bound to happen some time :)

I always love to hear what you think about what I wrote - what worked, what didn't. Please let me know :) thanks


	19. Chapter 19

An odd mix of sterile, like her lab, and a failed attempt at homey. Doctors' offices always seemed to try and make a person feel comfortable with warm colors, floral wall paper and hotel room quality paintings. For the life of her she didn't know why, she would be much more comfortable if it were just clean and sterile. She took one step into the exam room in her OB/GYN's office and stopped so abruptly that the medical assistant nearly knocked her over her.

Dr. Brennan interrupted her apologies without even acknowledging them, "Can you please go tell my partner, Agent Booth, that I have changed my mind and do wish for him to accompany me after all." she spoke soft but clear.

The medical assistant smiled, "Sure, Dr. Brennan, I left a gown on the table for you. Everything off but the gown. The doctor will be with you in a few minutes."

Dr. Temperance Brennan stood still, she never turned or acknowledged the medical assistants words. Startled by the swooshing sound of the curtain being pulled quickly along it's metal track followed by the door closing, her body involuntarily jumped. The young girl was gone and she was left alone in the room. She closed her eyes tightly waiting for her feverishly pounding heart to slow back down to normal. Forcing her mind to go somewhere else, be somewhere else.

Sunday morning early. When she woke sprawled out on Booth's bare chest. He was sound asleep, she was grateful for that. After the night terror he deserved to sleep deeply, peacefully. Smooth, muscular, her skin clung to his. Waking on his bare chest was the first bit of evidence that things had changed between them because she'd told him she loved him, because she articulated her desire to try to be together with him, as a couple. She'd laid there in the dark as her fingers ran in circles, round and round, rhythmically. Her thoughts mimicking her action, also running in circles. This scar beneath she fingertips wasn't meant for him, he'd stepped in front of her that night in the club blocking a bullet. So like Booth, always her protector, always jumping in front of whatever bullet life might shoot at her. Here he was again, wounded for her. This one wouldn't leave a physical scar like the one she traced now in the dark. But his nightmare had been evidence to her that it had already left its mark.

Methodically, she started to change, carefully folding and setting aside each item of her clothing as she took them off. Breathe, she told herself, just breathe. Sweets had pushed her to learn and use breathing exercises, progressive muscle relaxation, grounding. All techniques to help with panic attacks and flashbacks. As much as she hated to admit it the more she was out in the public the more she seemed to need those techniques to maintain control and keep from panicking. Breathe, she reminded herself, God, what was taking him so long? Did the medical assistant forget to tell him? Had he refused to come back? She stared at the cold sterile patient gown momentarily unable to reach for it and put it on. Breathe, she forced herself.

Bubbly, ponytail swaying as she walked the young medical assistant took her time getting back to the waiting room where she saw the tall dark haired agent leaned forward thumbing quickly through an outdated Family Circle magazine. His eyes popped up when the waiting room door opened. It's not like he expected Bones to be done, she had barely left the room. He was just feeling a little jumpy, he didn't like being separated from her for stuff like this. It was one thing to leave her working in Limbo or at the lab where he knew she was safe and there were people around her that cared for her. This was completely different. But if this is what she wanted, to go through the appointment by herself, on her own, he wasn't going to stop her from being independent. He knew she needed that, to feel independent and strong again. It would take time, it would happen little by little, but, he knew it would start by doing things that were hard on her own. He would be supportive and wait here. It was about what she wanted and needed not him.

Booth hadn't even known about the appointment until Sunday morning when Bones told him about it. Apparently, she had put it off, rescheduled it twice. It was only after they got the final on the rape kit that she decided the followup with her gynecologist and lab work she wanted her to have done were important enough to brave her fear. She'd all but convinced herself that Cam could do the lab work for her at the Jeffersonian and there would be no need for the exam. She knew her body enough to know it was healing just fine. Trying to convince Booth wasn't as easy as she'd hoped. In the end he won. She had been stoic about it on Sunday when Booth offered to be there with her. Never wavered from that until she grabbed his hand just moments before they called her back. There are not many people on this Earth that put up a better front than she does. Everyone around her saw a calm, collected exterior. Only he knew it was a facade, emotional camouflage. He whispered, reminded her of his offer, stroked her hand with his thumb, soft and slow. She shook her head almost imperceptibly, no.

When they finally called her name he thought she had changed her mind. Abruptly, she clamped down on his hand crushing it. She was beautiful, had a strong presence, but he recognized a fragility in her that most never saw and he wondered if that's why he never seemed to be prepared for the demonstration of her actual strength. He was so convinced that she had changed her mind, her hand squeezing his like a vice, that he started to rise out the his seat following behind her. She pulled her hand loose from his, though, and shook her head again, no.

He had just settled back into waiting when the medical assistant came and got him leaving him standing between the closed exam room door and the closed curtain that ran in front of it for privacy.

"Bones, I'm here." The tightness in her chest released, she could breathe again.

Booth stepped around the curtain. He came up behind her, her gown barely settled on her shoulders. It had only been a couple of days since his nightmare, since she had woken up sprawled comfortably across his bare chest but a lot had changed in those several days. Definitely she'd taken his move as an indication that they were being more physically open around each other. She had never held the same standards of modesty as he had but had been respectful for his sake. With those standards changing she welcomed the opportunity to be more relaxed herself. To be honest though, even if they hadn't changed, she didn't care about that right now. So close to teetering over the edge emotionally, survival, clinging to Booth was all she was thinking about.

Sunday, that's what she'd realized in the dark, she'd known it, she'd felt it before; but, this seemed like a different kind of acknowledgment to her. As he laid there sound asleep, his breathing slow and peaceful, his body warm and comforting. Her body rose and fell with his. They were symbiotic in that moment, she wanted more of that. Right now so much of life seemed tumultuous, it pitched her back and forth, nothing ever seemed on solid footing except for Booth. As unsteady and unpredictable as her emotions and life seemed Booth seemed conversely, equally, as firm, rooted, and fixed. He was her shelter from this storm. Clearly he'd taken the beating for her.

"You okay, Baby?" Stepping up behind her he pulled her hair back swooping it to one side and without asking took over tying the shoulders of her gown.

"I am now," he couldn't have known how much his solidness meant to her in this moment and she couldn't express it.

"Leave the one on the waist open, it's easier when I have to lay down," she commanded then as an afterthought added, "please."

He did, she leaned back into him taking several long deep breaths as his hands gently rested at her hips. "You're beautiful," his voice low, soothing. She didn't know how he could think that seeing her like he had, her every weakness so blatantly obvious, highlighted by the last month or so. Her next breath was shuddered but he felt the tension in her body start to ebb. Then as if in answer to her unspoken argument he turned her around, lifted her chin, and added, "you are."

Another deep breath and she situated herself on the exam table, her feet dangled, kicking nervously back and forth. He sat in a nearby chair, moving her clothes to his lap. Silence was never comfortable for him, "So, Bones, you still doing your girl thing with Angela today?"

She had barely gotten out a yes in response when they heard the doctor tapped lightly on the door as she entered the room. Watching her body tense instinctively he came and stood next to her, setting her belongings back in the chair.

The doctor, Mary Ellen Rousch, was nice enough, Booth knew she understood the circumstances. She seemed to know her patient, what she expected, even demanded from their professional relationship. It seemed colder and more distant than he would like, he certainly wouldn't classify her as having a warm bedside manner. Still Booth found her respectful of what would be his partner's natural reluctance or avoidance given all Bones had been through. She announced everything she was about to do with plenty of time to prepare emotionally and reported her observations as she made them. He knew this pleased Bones. It seemed to him that Dr. Rousch recognized her patient was fighting hard to maintain some decorum. Booth hovered by Bones' head, he himself having a hard time not seeing vivid flashes his own experience with her in the ER. Images of their experience as they processed the rape kit were too close to the exam happening now before him. While she didn't tell him it hurt, didn't beg him to make it stop, she clinched his hand frantically more than once, flinched reflexively in pain, and her eyes wore the same traumatized begging expression they had that night. Watching her fight, he needed to hover over her just as much and she needed him to. He stroked her forehead, held her hand firmly, listened, and tried to stay in this moment. Tried to keep her with him in this moment so that neither of them slipped helplessly into the past. She was willing, clinging to him as he clung to her. She saw it there in his eyes, his pain, his sacrifice, his strength, his love, a shelter that today they shared.

Eyes darting between Booth and the ceiling, she stared at a poster, trees designed to make it look like you were laying on the forest floor staring up at the them. Designed to distract, it hung on the ceiling over the exam table, it gave patients something to look at as they lay there on their backs. Growth, in large bold text, then a quote about the limitless potential we have as humans, intelligence, imagination, wonderment. She stared at it. Grounding, Sweets told her, uses your senses to help pull yourself back into the present. So, she concentrated on feeling Booth squeeze her hand trying to ignore the pressure the doctor was laying on her lower stomach with one hand as the other completed her exam. Concentrated on the smell that was so uniquely Booth over the sterile smells of the exam room. On listening to the voice of Dr. Rousch but it was admittedly hard when she needed Booth's soft reassurances. But now her attention darted between Booth and that poster until at one point, when she was trying exceptionally hard to ground herself she blurted out, "You do realize that there are limitations to intelligence, while imagination is certainly not quantifiable, intelligence is." It brought her back, broke up the tension she felt over the unwanted pelvic exam. Booth leaned down and kissed her forehead, chuckling under his breath. "I don't understand what's humorous,Booth, people with limited intelligence can't help it. Though many people squander their intellectual potential, some just don't have anything to squander."

It wasn't long after that her doctor announced she was done. A sense of relief filled the room. Bones was sitting back up again, legs dangling over the side of the exam table, Booth standing with his body brushing against her leg, one arm wrapped around her back. She felt his fingers fiddle with the thick cotton gown. They listened together as the the doctor gave Bones a clean bill of health, said she was healing perfectly, bruises, cuts, tears all pretty much gone. Cleared her for sexual activity. Lab work, which had been the real motivation for braving this appointment and not putting it off for a third time, all came back perfect, negative across the board. She encouraged her to continue with counseling even suggested adding group therapy on top of what she was already doing. That would never happen but her responsibility was to make sure she gave the right information to her patients not make them follow it. Reports given, pleasantries exchanged, advice noted, her doctor excused herself.

Sitting on the exam table, she watched as the doctor ducked out behind the privacy curtain. Part of her felt slightly defeated, she hadn't made it through the appointment alone as she'd planned.

Booth reached out his hands to help Bones off the table she fell into his arms, held onto him tightly. "You did it, Bones, you made it, it's all over and done with. And good news, right?" nodding yes, she trembled in his arms for just a few more moments. Booth was right though, she had made it, she hadn't slipped into a flashback, hadn't fallen apart or panicked.

"Hey," he added pulling her back so he could look into her eyes, "you remember the first time we went out to lunch at the diner after all this happened?" she nodded, yes.  
"Remember how nervous you were, how hard it was?" She did remember, remembered how ridiculous she felt being panicked somewhere that nothing bad had ever happened, that held so many positive memories for her. It was devastating to be so undone somewhere that was hers, where she had always felt comfortable. "But each time we went back it got better and now it's like it was before, right?"

She took a deep cleansing breath, her fingers played with the slack in the back of his dress shirt until it was untucked just enough for her to feel his bare back, "Right." she nodded adding to her verbal response. Her fingers barely moving back and forth created a comforting connection with him.

"Next time, next doctors visit, will be easier than this one, I promise." Her eyes worried, skeptical, "I promise, Bones, I do." he was laying a reaffirming kiss on her forehead when his cell phone buzzed. "It's Caroline, I'm going to take it, okay?" She nodded, he answered, pulling away from her, ducking into the small space between the curtain and the door to talk while Bones dressed.

Analyzing what Booth had told her she realized she did feel stronger for it. He was right, so many things that she was doing now a month ago she couldn't even consider without falling apart. Some of them now caused her only minimal distress. A month ago she could hardly be away from Booth and the security she felt with him right there. Today she was planning to go to lunch with Angela, just the two of them. Maybe she hadn't made it through the appointment on her own but she made it through and Booth was right, next time would be easier.

She pulled the curtain back confidently when she was all dressed, he was just hanging up the phone. Leaning in he kissed her on the cheek as he opened the door and ushered her out, his hand comfortably in the small of her back.

* * *

A/N Hello! Thank you so much to all of you who continue to read and especially all the continued compliments, feedback, and encouragement! It is immensely helpful and motivating :) I loved hearing from several of you about Booth's dream in the last chapter. Especially those that thought it was Brennan's at first because that is what I intended. It was fun but difficult to write it that way. Things I love about reviews right there! :) I wish I could crawl into everyone's head and know what they thought as they were reading to see if what I wanted to get across came across but alas I can't :( sadness...I only know what you tell me in your wonderful reviews.

I promise I will finish the story, for those who have expressed concern about that. I have no desires to leave poor Booth and Brennan stuck in an unresolved universe, especially this one, too traumatic and sad.


	20. Chapter 20

Long days that felt like they kept getting longer. He craved a carefree moment to take his mind off of things as he poured her a glass of wine to go with dinner. He'd already pulled a beer out of the fridge for himself. He couldn't help wonder what life would have been like had he not fallen for the easy relationship with Hannah. If their reunion at the coffee cart had been the start of something bigger for them. It's not like he ever thought life would be easy or completely carefree, how could it be given the nature of what they did for a living. Heaven knows Bones is complicated on her own, always has been, always would be. But he was sure that this heaviness that hung over them now would never have happened if they had gotten together sooner. She would never have been alone at that bar, never be meeting a colleague for drinks at a place like that. She never would have been that vulnerable if they had been together, if his mind had been focused on her, not split, wrestling, trying to prove to himself that this thing with Hannah was going to work. He took a deep breath trying to pull himself out of a doomed circular pattern of thinking. It didn't matter, he had been with Hannah, Bones did go to the bar, she was raped, it's just what it was and no amount of mental gymnastics was going to change it.

He watched her, standing there in the kitchen, intently serving up their dinner onto two plates. These times had become his favorites. Sometimes, when it was just them, when they were carrying out the routines of everyday life, cooking, eating meals, the routine of their evenings, everything felt so perfect and relaxed, so normal. And today, today was a good day. He couldn't complain, he shouldn't. He should feel that now, he should push off all the darkness hanging over them, coming down the line, they weren't there yet – live in the moment he always told her. Now he should listen to his own advice. In that moment, he reminded himself, and moved.

Silently, he set her glass down on the counter next to her, took the utensils out of her hands returning them to their dish. "Booth," she started to protest but he turned her, pulling her body tightly into his own and pressed his lips to hers. It was a hungry kiss, unrestrained, passionate, he was taking the moment making it his, no, theirs. It couldn't wait until after dinner or even for her to finish serving up the plates. It was an immediate need. It happened so fast her hands flailed through that first kiss. But she was quick, as always, she caught up, her hands finding their way around him. Her breath unprepared gasping between kisses. He moved her, turning her, until she was backed up against a clear spot, then in one effortless movement lifted her onto the counter. He was always careful with her, gentle, she knew he was strong but it wasn't until moments like these that she was reminded how strong. Her hands resting on his biceps as he lifted her, she felt his muscles work under her fingertips, it was intoxicating. No time or energy or desire to restrain her guttural reactions, her pleasure filled his ears. It was lyrical, he wanted more.

"You're . . ." he settled between her legs, hands rubbing along her hips, then pulling her back to the edge of the counter, back to him. Moving down along her jaw line, he kissed his way towards her delicate neck, whispered in her ear, "you're so . . ." She pulled at his shirt like she had earlier in the day but now they were home, she didn't have to be discrete, didn't have to refrain or settle for just the tiniest bit of him like she had this morning. "You're perfect." His chin had dropped lulling, barely brushing his check along on the slope of her breast that peaked out above the deep V neckline of her over sized t-shirt. If she could have caught her breathe, if she could have thought at all she would have argued with him. She was so far from perfect but at the moment she couldn't do anything, her body completely taken over by her reaction to him. She couldn't even coordinate herself enough take off his tie and unbutton his shirt, which is what she desperately wanted to do. She could only feel, paralyzed by the intensity of the moment, she clung to his tie, holding on like it was her life line.

He was her life line. She had supposed she had always known it, the fact was certainly driven home when she was so far away from him in Maluku – she had fought it there, at first, then gave into the realization, the depth of what he meant to her. And she was ready, ready to change when she got home but the change she had to make was not to let him love her or to let herself love him. The change she had to make was to let him love another. But not now, not anymore. Now he was hers, she was his, at least they were trying to be. She fought that interdependence at times and at times, like today at lunch with Angela, she was forced to realize that it was there whether she admitted it or not. It had been her first time out in public without Booth. It seemed like it shouldn't be a big deal when she thought about it logically but logic had little to do with her last month and a half. Logic was completely overridden regularly by emotions that she was completely unequipped to understand or deal with.

His hands slid up her hips, under her shirt, spreading out across her bare back, holding her close. She marveled that one person could make her feel so many different emotions at one time, most of which felt new, she could hardly understand. It wasn't like she had never had relationships before but this, with him was inherently different. At the core though, at her core, she felt safe with him. Whether she was in his arms, like this moment, or next to him, or even just thinking of him, she felt safe. A kind of safe she had never felt before, though she didn't fully comprehend it she knew enough to know that she never wanted to lose it. She felt it now, as his hands roamed, as his mouth claimed more and more of her. She felt safe, trusted his touch, wanted more than anything to be utterly and completely claimed by him.

Finally able to regain some control she went to work on his tie, her eyes caught in his, her want, her need speaking to him. She was unraveling his tie, unraveling him as she went to work in the button of his dress shirt. Then she saw it, there in his eyes, he was going to retreat. "No," she whispered into him as she pulled him closer by his strong shoulders, his muscles tensing, twitching beneath her touch. "No," she was almost begging, "don't stop." But like every other times they had gotten close she could feel him backing off. She didn't understand why he'd pull away. He said he wanted her, said it just wasn't time yet, said he was afraid of hurting her, of making things worse. But when it happened all those things seemed like excuses not valid concerns. She couldn't help but feel that it was her, something wrong with her.

Seeing that pain in her eyes, for a moment he came back, a renewed aggressiveness, pulling her hair from the ponytail it had been in while they worked out tonight. Letting it fall down, silky strands tickling his face as it fell around him. Then he pulled back again, "we have to stop now or I won't be able to," he murmured against her neck, his hands pulling at the t-shirt she had thrown on over her sports bra before they went into shop for dinner. She didn't want him to stop, she raised her arms over her head encouraging him to pull it right off her body. Frozen for a moment, his eyes pleaded with hers not to encourage him, to help him stop, she didn't. Locked in the moment, his hands moving gray soft tee slowly up her body, his breathe hard and fast, his palms brushing her delicate skin as he went. A choice, he would let himself get lost in her. He would let this be it.

He knew what she didn't. Caroline and Shaw had pulled him into a meeting earlier today. The warrants had been issued for DNA samples for four suspects. They had been executed, samples were at the lab, at the Jeffersonian. There was no question of putting a rush on it. No one wanted to wait. As they had boxed tonight, pounding out stress and aggression Cam had been feverishly begging the machinery to work faster, yield its results faster. There would be arrest warrants, indictments, preliminary hearings, the process already set in motion. The press release would go out tomorrow or the next day. It would be good, the beginning of the end. The road back to normalcy. It would be hard, the reality of everything thrown to the public, becoming inescapable. This was the eye of their storm, their last moment of calm before all hell broke loose.

He leaned back into her, she saw the shift in his eyes, the sudden resolve. She fought tears, the sense of relief overwhelming, but, she feared he wouldn't understand if she cried. He would think he'd done something wrong, that she was hurting, not ready. Pulling him back to her, their lips met first, mouths open to each other, a familiarity, a release. There was no loss of connection as she pushed the shirt down his shoulders, off his body, one arm free then the other. Need took over, his bare chest pulled into her. Her turn, her mouth, glancing over his skin as she worked her way down the strong muscles of his neck. She slid off the counter as she continued down his neck to that beautiful hollow that formed where his clavicles met. There she lingered, his fingers twisted in her hair, binding her to him. Last shreds of resolve to stop, to wait, gone, completely here in this moment, their moment.

She felt his heartbeat pounding beneath her lips, felt his hands hold her close. Finally there was nothing else in the world but them, minds cleared, bodies intertwined, touching, feeling, being together. Completely lost in each other.

So lost that they missed the first few rings of his cell. So lost that they both chose to ignore it, to let it go, when the annoying ring finally broke through to their consciousness. But when his cell stopped ringing and his land line almost immediately started ringing they collapsed on each other in defeat. He went for the phone, she leaned up against the counter, waiting.

Back to routine, he paced, she folded her arms across her chest. He gave only the briefest acknowledgments, she listened intently for any clue or word to hang on. She hoped this was only a temporary interruption but when he reached over and handed her shirt back to her she knew it was gone, their moment was gone. Like punctuation at the end of a sentence he bent down retrieved his shirt and started shrugging his body back into it. She stopped him in front of her and started buttoning him back up as he listened intently. Then leaned into her, his lips laying a gentle kiss on her forehead. He walked off again, the faint murmur of questions, the long wait for answers. She wiped frantically at a few stray tears in his absence, she wanted them hidden. Knowing that if he saw her disappointment he would take it personally.

By the time he worked his way back to her she was put back together, brave, strong, and determined. She'd changed out of her exercise clothes. "I'm going with you." she stated flatly.

"What? No, Bones, I never even said I was going somewhere or that I was going without you," but it was evident he was going, he'd finished redressing himself, loaded his pockets, and was grabbing his keys.

She responded with a glare, her eyebrows raised, as she motioned to his actions with one hand, the other still wrapped tightly across her chest, "I'm not staying here alone."

He studied her for a minute, taking in her defensive demeanor, then motioned for her to come sit down next to him on the bed. He took a deep breath. "I told you about the warrants, right, for the DNA?" she nodded. "They got the results back earlier this evening."

She cut him off, "that was awfully fast."

"Well, Bones, a lot of people love you. Cam pushed them through." he paused for a moment, it was clear there was something more complicated going on. "Okay, so, I will tell you the rest in the car but Cam pushed the DNA through and Caroline pushed the arrest warrants through, they were issued tonight. One of the guys tried to run, sonofabitch, ran right into oncoming traffic. He was in surgery, in recovery now but it's not looking good, they want to interview him as soon as he's conscious, if he even regains consciousness." It wasn't clear from any of that whether they had asked Booth to be there or if he had just insisted on being there. Truth be told it wasn't the issue right now, she pulled her mind back to listen, "If I take you down there you know it will be a long night." she gave him a nod, she understood, "and you won't get to see him, right, you understand that? You're not getting anywhere near him, you understand?"

"Yes," her eyes were wide, urgent. They sat there in silence for a brief moment. His thumb rubbing over her hand, he gave it one last squeeze.

"Okay, then," he stood pulling her with him, "okay."

What she couldn't piece together before started to form into a clearer picture as Booth filled in the blanks. It all tumbled out while they were driving to Washington Hospital. From interviews, descriptions, and body markings they had narrowed the field to four suspects. One they had already interviewed, Douglas Clyve, he had a record, his DNA had been on file with CODIS which made getting the warrant for his DNA easy. The other three had taken more work, truly a team effort, but it had all come together. They were confident in their work and anticipated that the results would confirm all four men involved in her assault and the assault of the other women. It didn't turn out that way though. The tests did confirm Douglas Cylve and two other men. James Halverson who was an engineer with an office in Alexandria, he was the one in critical condition. And Bill Phelps who worked security and theft prevention for a local drug store. The fourth man, a doctorate student at George Washington University, was cleared by the DNA test. Booth, couldn't help but feel for the guy that had been cleared, probably the best damn news he'd received in a long time. Altogether though things didn't add up. Three very different guys from totally different walks of life, nothing seemed to bind them together. With no other leads they were counting on turning at least one of them to get the name of the fourth man. Angela was digging through the three suspects pasts trying to find a connection that might yield the fourth ones name and to give interrogators some leverage.

"But the man at the bar told me his name was Michael, Booth," there was confusion in her voice. She was so tired, tired of not knowing all the details, of the haze that still surrounded the event. The thought of having the few things she knew called into question was nearly devastating.

"He probably gave you a fake name, Bones, each of those other ladies had the same experience, basically described the same man but his name was different in each of their accounts."

"I hate not knowing," she let out a heavy sigh and turned her attention to the passing lights of the city streaking quickly by as they drove.

"I know," he reached over and took her hand in his. "Hopefully, this guy will come to and give us something to go on, right?" Her hand seemed so small and delicate, his large thick hand swallowed hers up. She turned to look at him. Though she didn't say it, it was clear she wanted some reassurance, was searching for it. "We'll get him, Bones, all of them, they won't get away with this. Think of all the cases we've solved. Our team is the best, right, they won't stop until we do."

They were there, parked, he held her hand as they walked into the commotion of the trauma center. A flash of his badge and they were past security someone was there to lead them to the rest of their group. Booth started to move but realized she was frozen, standing still. He moved his fingers feeling her pulse, racing. Her breathing erratic. Her eyes frantic. He was talking to her but for some reason he was the only thing that felt distant. Everything else seemed too close, coming at her too fast, too loud, too much to take in, too hard to judge distance and direction. Then she felt his arm around her, then she heard his low tender voice. He moved her past the commotion of the ER, kept talking to her, kept her moving. Then she could breathe, she could think, she could move again, she could survive.

A/N Hello! Thank you everybody for your continued support of this story! As my husband put it I had a little bit of writer's meltdown last night but it's all good now! And the story is moving along!

Please tell me what you think - what you like - what you don't :) It makes a big difference!


	21. Chapter 21

The slide of the elevator doors, the ding, the movement. Booth pulled her close, whispering to her. She hadn't reacted quite like this before. It worried him, "do you want to go home, we don't have to stay, we can go." she pulled back a little looking at him, trying to judge how serious his offer was. He nodded, confirming that he would leave if she wanted, if she needed to. Her panicked eyes met his warm ones and held for just a moment. She shook her head, no. His hand gently ran up and down her back. Then, when the elevator doors opened, led her protectively out of the elevator. They followed their guide into an ICU waiting room. Caroline was there along with Shaw and a couple of other agents. Several other small groups of people huddled in pairs and small groups scattered throughout the large waiting room.

"It's gonna be a long night, Cherie." Caroline welcomed them with a warning. She shot Booth a skeptical look. It was understood, she questioned the wisdom of bringing Dr. Brennan down here to wait, "might as well make yourselves comfortable, we're in for the long haul on this one." Raising her cup of coffee in the air as if she was about to make a toast for emphasis.

Booth asked a couple of questions trying to find out if anything had happened with the suspect here since he got the call. He wanted to know what was going on with the security guard. Shaw spoke in hushed tones, Cullen was handling the interrogation of the security guard. She was waiting here in hopes that Mr. Halverson would regain consciousness. Charlie had come down also – he was working with the hospital, coordinating security, acting as a go between Metro and the FBI, and at the moment trying to procure a more private room.

Booth was no stranger to PTSD, to panic attacks, and flashbacks. It was something he had battled for years, since early in his military career. He recognized the signs when she'd stopped, frozen, in the ER. Suspecting that's what she'd been experiencing he'd immediately scanned the waiting room for a good place to anchor themselves. He moved them away from the group, motioning to let them know they would be seated in a corner where there was nomovement or sound behind them to worry. The walls behind them providing some sense of protection. They sat in silence, watching the room. He took her hand and held it between his as he leaned forward elbows on his knees.

She watched the other families, wondering if any of them belonged to the man who'd raped her. So many emotions, spread across so many faces. She wasn't sure if a family dealing with the realization that their son, their husband or father was a rapist would look any different than the emotions for a family member in ICU that might not make it through the night. Booth would probably be able to tell, probably already knew, but it was all a confusing blur to her. For that matter he might not have family here, maybe they had them in a separate waiting room. Police officers and FBI agents, most of which were clearly identifiable, had to be intimidating as they chattered intently, they were a force. She adjusted nervously in her seat.

Booth, could feel her anxiousness, "Hey, you know you never really got a chance to tell me about your lunch with Angela." He sat back laying his arm across the back of her chair, turning his body, pulling her into conversation. His fingers played with the ends of her hair as she turned to tell him about her lunch.

"It was good, we went to the diner, as you know." she could tell he wanted more information. Pulling her mind back away from all the sights and sounds around her she tried to concentrate on her lunch. "Her pregnancy is coming along nicely, she seems to be past the morning sickness, for the most part though she did indicate that sometimes a smell or the look of something will trigger a relapse." She looked at him, waiting to see if he wanted more information.

"I was gone for most of Rebecca's pregnancy with Parker, though she would write me about it. I missed out on most of that stuff, except, you know when I was back home on leave here and there." Knowing how deeply he felt about Parker and how bad he'd felt over not being able or allowed to be there over the years, she reached out, placing her hand on his knee.

"She seems happy, very happy, despite the abdominal distress and other changes in her body." there was genuine confusion in her voice. Like so many times and subjects in the past she just didn't understand. It was one of the things he found most endearing, sometime frustrating, but mostly endearing about her.

He smiled softly, tucking a bit of unruly hair behind her ear. He loved her, and moments like these reminded him why and just how much. "Well, Bones, sometime the happiness you gain is bigger than the sacrifices you make. Pregnancy is that way, when you have that life growing inside you. It's a beautiful thing, their love created that." He hesitated a moment, as much as he wanted to hear what she had to say about Angela he really wanted to know how lunch was for her. Especially after what he saw when they first got to the hospital. "So, how was it for you, being out like that, on your own?"

She shrugged, he watched as her mind work backwards through the day. "It was, good," there was some reluctance in her voice that worried Booth. Between lunch and tonight she, herself, was worried; but, she didn't know how to explain to Booth what had happened either time. She just didn't have the words, it was all jumbled, mixed with feelings she really didn't understand. Certainly, what had happened at lunch was nothing like what had happened tonight, though similar, it was much milder. It made her think that maybe what happened in the ER was just because she was so tired and still off balance from being jerked from her time with Booth and jumbled with the revelations about this man and her case. Though she had felt jumpy at the diner and had that same strange sensation of not being able to judge distance, movement or sound. Everything had seemed overstimulating, it seemed rational to her that in her exhausted state the same experience would be worse than it was at lunch. Booth was worried enough, she could see it, she would think about it more, try to figure out how to tell him. She'd tell him later not burden him now.

Sweets walked through the door making a beeline for the couple right as Booth was about to ask her more. Saved by Sweets, there was some irony in there somewhere. She nudged Booth drawing his presence to his attention. "Hey, Booth, Dr. Brennan, looks like he's waking up. His wife is with him now." Dr. Brennan closed her eyes.

Sometimes being so astute to every detail around you was a curse. They hadn't put his family in another room, she was almost sure of it, not that long ago a doctor had come out talking in hushed tones to a family settled on the side of the waiting room. At the end of the conversation, with hugs, consolations, and encouragement from her group, a woman stood left with the doctor. Booth pulled her focus back to their conversation,"don't stare, Bones," uttered under his breath.

Sweets continued, "We're up next, should be any minute. You, me, and Shaw or Caroline, maybe Caroline. She can offer a deal," he was talking directly to Booth. "The staff said we can only have a couple of minutes. He really shouldn't have any visitors but they really don't think he'll make it so they wanted his family to have some time with him first. How crazy is that? Guy's totally just a normal guy civil engineer, wife, kids. He didn't even have parking tickets."

"Sweets," Booth's voice wasn't hushed at all, he wanted him to stop the rambling, "why don't you give us a minute or two, okay?" For someone trained in psychology and so good at profiling, sometimes Booth was astounded by his lack of judgment. Bones didn't need him rambling on about what a fine upstanding member of society the man that raped her was.

"Yeah, sure, I'll come get you when their ready for us." he left, rejoined Caroline and Shaw.

Booth looked around the room, he was worried about leaving her out there on her own. Charlie was there, she knew him pretty well but if she started to have a panic attack he wouldn't know, much less know what to do. She wouldn't tell him, there was no way she would tell Charlie. Even though she knew Caroline and Sweets very well he didn't think they would catch it either. She was very skilled at hiding her emotions from the public. He leaned in, "are you going to be okay if I go in there with them?" Her gaze had already drifted back to the other side of the room, "do you want me to stay here with you, I don't have to go in." Truth was he really did need to go in and he certainly wanted to. He was the most experienced agent there. Caroline represented the courts, she could make a deal. Sweets could tell if he was lying. Shaw was still really green, it was her first case to manage on her own and he'd been helping her, coaching her all the way. He didn't even know if either she or Sweets had dealt with witnesses or suspects that were near death. He had too many times over his career.

"I'll be fine, Booth, you need to be in there." she could see the worry written on his face, "I will stay right here."

He looked at her skeptically, "well, now you have me worried. You're never that compliant, Bones," he chuckled, she did too.

"I promise, you can go, they need you." Since they had gotten settled in the room she was actually feeling quite a bit better, her chest still felt a little tight, but, she really didn't foresee any reason why she wouldn't be just fine waiting on her own.

It wasn't long and Sweets was there to get Booth. They all went back, Booth, Caroline, Sweets, and Shaw. There was a couple agents, a couple cops mingling, none of which she knew well. She had seen them before, at crime scenes; but, tonight as she considered it, she realized she couldn't remember any of their names. Except for Charlie, Charlie walked in shortly after Booth left. He made his way to her holding a cup of hot coffee and a bottle of water. "Hello, Dr. Brennan, Booth thought you might be thirsty and I wasn't sure what you'd prefer, so I got both for you."

"Thank you, Charlie, that was very thoughtful." He smiled as he handed them over then went to mingle with the rest of the agents. She caught him frequently glancing over at her. Clearly Booth had told him to keep an eye on her. She set the coffee aside and opened the water. After the experience in the ER anything that made her heart race didn't seem like a good idea. She watched the room, sipped at her water, and felt okay for a little while. But time seemed to be dragging on, what was only supposed to take a few minutes, because that was all the time they were supposed to have been given, became a half an hour. The woman she suspected to be James Halverson's wife had come back to the room and was sitting with her family again. They were talking amongst themselves. She tried to ignore them but she swore they were looking in her direction, motioning towards her.

She started to feel it happening again. Trying to control it, she worked on her breathing, tried to slow it down, calm herself, calm her heart rate. It didn't seem that there was anything to ground herself to. Booth wasn't there with her, she didn't have his touch or the smell of him or his voice, she realized in that moment just how very dependent on him she'd become. It made her all the more determined to fight this on her own. She took a drink of the coffee for the taste. Senses, Sweets told her to use her senses. She was fighting for control when she saw the woman get up and leave her group. She sat up straight, pushed her back into the back of the chair so she could feel the pressure of it. Reminded herself to breath.

The woman was short, maybe only five foot two or three. She looked like she had been pulled away from something routine like making dinner for her family, folding laundry, putting kids to bed for the night. She wasn't dressed up or put together, just wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Her strawberry blond hair, cut short, curls framed her round face. It didn't seem like she was wearing any makeup, iif she had been wearing any before you couldn't tell by looking at her now. Eyes red from crying, her face puffy and splotchy. She looked hesitant as she approached one of the Metro police officers asking questions and nodding in response.

She knew. She knew as soon as the lady stood up and broke that invisible barrier between her family and law enforcement that eventually she would come and talk to her. Nothing could describe the sinking feeling as the officer motioned to her, Dr. Temperance Brennan, and the lady turned and headed her way. An ache in her chest, a weight in her stomach, heart pounding so hard she swore she could feel the valves as they slammed open and closed, pushing the blood through her body. She braced herself as her mind raced trying to figure out what she could possibly say to her. She needed Booth, he always knew what to say, he always knew what to do. She needed him to come back and help. She sat up straighter, squared her shoulders. Outwardly she put on a strong front, inside she was crumbling. Where was he? Why wasn't he back?

Booth, leaned up against the high counter of the nurses station, let out a deep tired sigh, and folded his arms across his chest. He was impatient, anxious for this to be over, tired of waiting. Sweets, Shaw, and Caroline huddled nearby, talking strategy, planning. Booth interjected here and there. They had waited for the man's wife to finish visiting with her husband. The wife lingered, talking to the nursing staff then to the doctor. They waited. Then the doctor insisted they give his patient a little more time to recover from his last visitor before they questioned him. He couldn't help but wonder how Bones was doing out in the waiting room. He was about to bow out and go check on her when they were ushered into the man's room. Monitors beeping, tubes and wires running everywhere, an oxygen mask covered his face.

"James", he snapped his fingers in front of the man's face, he stared up at Booth. "James, I'm Special Agent Booth with the FBI". They didn't have much time, Booth could tell. "This here is Caroline Julian from the US Attorney's office. Are you with me here James? Jim?" the man slowly opened his eyes again, this time keeping them open "You ran Jim? Why'd you run?" He barely mumbled, it seemed like nonsense. Booth could feel his pulse raising, this wasn't going to yield much if anything. He rubbed his brow and came at it again this time he would go for just simple yes or no questions. But before he could the man started trying to talk. He was nearly unintelligible but it sounded like he was saying he was sorry, over and over. Booth decided to let him just talk, hushing Sweets when he started to ask a question. Something about hurting he thought, Booth wasn't sure if he was saying he was hurting or didn't mean to hurt someone else. It sounded like he was trying to say he was trapped. Booth interjected, "you were trapped?" The man barely able to move nodded, yes. "Someone was making you do this?" the man's eyes looked desperate and sad.

The group eyed each other, disturbed by the physical response to Booth's question. Watching his chest deflate as he let out his breath, as a tear rolled down his check, as he worked to answer Booth's question audibly, "yes." He started to drift off again.

Booth tried to get him back, "who, Jim, who was making you do this?"

It was too late, he mumbled what the group later agreed must have been an attempt to ask for the doctor. They watched as his eyes seemed to roll back and close. All hell broke loose, bells and alarms started to sound, nurses came rushing in, they were hurried out to give the staff space and time to work. It was over for now, they wouldn't talk to him again tonight. Instructions were given to the officers posted outside his room. Shaw left her card, she was to be contacted immediately if he regained consciousness. Talking as they walked back to the waiting room they shared what they each took away from the complicated and cryptic conversation.

Booth was anxious to get back to Bones, to get them out of the hospital, get her back home to the apartment. He was just pushing open the door to the waiting room when he saw the suspects wife looming over Bones. At the moment having them anchored in the corner seemed like a horrible idea, too much distance to get to her, too many people in the way. He rushed through the crowd, angling his broad shoulders to maneuver, twisting turning. The closer he got the clearer the two womens' voices became.

"You must be wrong, you have to be wrong," the lady was pleading with Bones, "My Jim would never do something like that, never. Why would you make something up like this? Why would you lie about my husband?" over and over waiting for a response, tears streaming down her face.

Bones was ashen, her eyes wide, she looked cornered, but then again she was literally cornered. Her half of the conversation also looping, "No, science doesn't lie, it can only tell the truth. People lie but science never lies."

Finally there, Booth put his arm around the woman, turned her away from Bones, hastily introduced himself as he moved her over to Sweets who walked her back to her group of family there to support her. Sweets sat down with them, in his element, doing his shrinky thing.

Before Sweets could even get the woman back to her family Booth was squatted down in front of Bones, she kept saying it, "no, it wasn't me, science doesn't lie, it can't, it can only tell the truth" Her breath so erratic, so fast, gasping between words, she was hyperventilating. He tried to get her to slow down her breathing. But she wouldn't, she couldn't. He pinched half her nose closed to slow her breathing.

"I know, Bones, science doesn't lie, you're right. It's going to be okay. Bones, you have to slow your breathing down, Bones." She started to say it again, but her limbs were tingling, her vision fuzzing out to white, before she could get anything out, she went limp in his arms. He let her collapse on him, kept talking to her, rubbed her arms.

The first thing she could really distinguish as the world came back into focus was Caroline verbally lashing the young officer who'd pointed her out, "What the hell were you thinking, Cherie? Did you get your badge from the bottom of a Cracker Jack's box?" She lifted her head, turned it so it was no longer facing the waiting room, trying to block it out. She burrowed into Booth's neck, feeling secure and relieved. He helped her stand up.

"Let's go, okay? You ready to go?" He grabbed her purse and her hand. Looking back over her shoulder as she left the room the eyes of both devastated women met momentarily, then locked. She would never know what to say to her, but she felt for her, for the devastation she obviously felt. Booth reached back and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulled her close to him, "she'll be okay, Bones, Sweets will take good care of her, make sure she has all the right resources available to her, he's good at that." She seemed fixed, almost locked in the exchange. He squeezed her shoulder and nudged her along. "Come on, we need to get home." She turned in to him, letting the door close behind her.

* * *

A/N This chapter just kind of rose up and wrote itself, which was wonderful. Suppose it was making up for the last couple chapters that I fought with and had to drag into existence. :) Thank you again for all the support, encouragement, reviews, and help. Especially givesup who is always just a text away, keeping me sane and getting me back on track 3 and Covelant Bond for saving me from myself and what had become a lengthy internal debate about Cracker Jack boxes! Proving I can over think even the simplest of things.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter you can always let me know *hint hint* by leaving a review - love to hear your thoughts about the story, feelings, theories ;) Love it all!


	22. Chapter 22

It seemed like a long drive home, longer than usual. Bones was quiet, looking out the window at first, watching the lights, head lulled back against the seat. Low and comforting his voice reached out to her, "how are you holding up, Bones?" She turned her head towards Booth. Her fingers tightened around his, but she didn't say anything. He'd been holding her hand the entire drive, rubbing his thumb over hers rhythmically, consistently. Looking back and forth from the road to her he was trying to judge how she was faring. Now he watched her eyes, those beautiful eyes that he loved so much, that had spoken to him for all these years, that told him more than her words ever did. Those beautiful eyes were so heavy falling closed slowly, she fought to pull them open again. It was the middle of the night. Emotionally exhausted, finally she felt safe, she had a hard time fighting the urge to escape and sleep.

Somewhere in between his glances she gave into her weariness. He pulled his attention back to the road. When he felt her hand fall completely limp in his, he set it carefully in her lap then brought his own hand back up to rub some of the tightness out of his chest. His mind drifted. Jim Halverson, professional, family man. From the expression on his wife's face, which Booth couldn't get out of his head, he loved and was deeply loved, he made no sense as a suspect but DNA didn't lie. He was guilty and not just of assaulting Bones. They had him dead to rights in the other assaults too. Then there was the other suspect, the other arrest and interview, the one that Cullen had been taking care of while they were at the hospital. He'd told Shaw to contact him when she had the details from that interrogation, to at least text him when she knew something. Something about Phelps or any new developments with Halverson but he hadn't heard anything from her yet. Focused on Bones but anxious for info with all the new movement in her case he checked his phone, there was nothing, no new messages.

When he pulled into his parking space he turned off the truck and turned towards her. Still asleep, he sat and watched her, taking just a moment to breathe. Reaching out he stroked her cheek lightly, "Hey, Baby, we're home," he whispered. She nodded into his palm and started to stir. Booth quieted her, "shhh . . . just stay there," he let his hand slip down her neck and rest lightly on her shoulder, he watched as she sunk back into the seat. The next thing she remembered was Booth's sure touch as he slid his arms under and around her lifting her out of the truck as if to carry her into the apartment.

Arms wrapped around his neck, her voice heavy, slightly slurred with sleepiness she patted his shoulder, "I can walk." When he didn't set her down immediately she patted him again, three short pats, a message in it's own right. She held onto his neck as he set her feet down, waiting to let go of her until she seemed to have her bearings. Sliding her arm through his, she leaned into him as they walked. Almost as reflex he turned and laid a soft kiss on the top of her head.

Where they often took the stairs tonight they took the elevator. As his arms wrapped around her she felt his protection, his strength, his love holding her tight, swaying her slightly. A deep long exhale of comfort against his neck, a soft sigh, he felt her melt in his arms. Despite her earlier protests he picked her up and carried her the rest of the way. No fights this time. The day had been difficult, difficult but triumphant as he saw it. She had asked for his help at the doctors office, that was huge. Bones walking into a situation, realizing it was more than she could handle, and actually asking for help, admitting she needed _his_ help. Then she went to lunch with Angela, out to lunch, out in public, not with him. It was hard, not crowding her, encouraging her to try to do things on her own, to go out with Angela even when his urge to protect her was raging. He knew she needed to be on her own more. He knew how empowered it would make her feel. He wanted that for her. She missed feeling strong and independent, he knew she did. He saw how painful that loss of independence was for her though she tried to be brave and hide it, it was in her eyes. And then dinner, well almost dinner, watching her in the kitchen, no longer his kitchen, becoming more and more theirs. And them, them in their kitchen, his hands twitched against her, the sweet memory resurfacing at the thought, it was almost, almost, and then it all flipped in the blink of an eye, the ring of his phone. Dinner wasn't and what was started in the kitchen wasn't finished. What had been a triumphant and positive day turned into a hellacious night.

Tonight, the hospital, the memories, it was all too familiar. Hospitals had never been easy for him to begin with, he hated them, hated being in them, the smell, the sounds, the lighting, the tension, even before this whole experience with her and her assault. Now, if it were possible, he hated them more. He carried her back into his apartment, cradled in his arms. Too much like the night he brought her back to his apartment limp, broken in his arms. But it was different he reminded himself, she was better, she was stronger now, healing, and they, the two of them, had come such a long way. He kissed her forehead as he leaned back against the door closing it behind him, Finally home, he let out a long sigh of relief.

He held her in his arms sleepy, trusting, clinging to him; he realized, right then, a change in himself. In that moment, he felt his own sense of readiness. Because tonight, now, if she'd asked, if she'd wanted him, he would be hers, all of him, every bit of him was ready to be with her and show her that he would give her anything she wanted, anything she needed. He wasn't afraid anymore, realizing that she needed him more than she needed protection from memories that would plague her regardless.

When they got to the bedroom though, she was asleep. He laid her carefully on the bed and grabbed her PJs from the drawer. Gently, he took off her shoes setting them on the ground next to the bed. She stirred, awake enough that she looked at him approvingly as he carefully helped her change. Until there she was in only her bra and underwear, sitting relaxed propped up on pillows against the headboard, legs slightly crisscrossed. His heart pounded. It was intimate, very intimate and tender, the acceptance and love he saw in her eyes, no apprehension, no fear. He slid the pajama shorts up her legs, over her hips, settling them on her body. The top was folded next to him begging for a decision to me made. He stared at it for a moment, then leaning down cupped her face with both hands, big and sturdy, rough and callused, nearly enveloped her soft tired face, "What do you need from me?"

Her answer was small, vulnerable, weary, "hold me," she whispered, "I just want you to hold me," looking directly into his eyes. He nodded, he could do that. She reached for the pajama top and slid it over her body. After it was in place, she reached around to undo her bra and maneuver it off of her body. He stood and started undressing himself as he made his way around to his side of the bed. Clothes strewn around the the room, on the floor, draped on chairs and dressers, anyone who didn't know better would have thought they had a night of unbelievable passion. There was haste involved but really it was the drive he felt to be there in the way she needed tonight. Ready for the night he climbed between the covers wearing his boxers and the plain white t-shirt that he'd been wearing under his dress shirt. She turned into him before he could even get settled, pushing at his t-shirt, trying to move it so she could lay her head on his bare chest. He smiled as he pulled the t-shirt from his body. Smiled at her desire to be close to him, to have as little as possible separating them. Restless, she seemed to be having a hard time getting settled. The more she wriggled, edged, tugged, the more twisted in Booth she became, the more satisfied and contented she seemed to get until she quieted altogether. He smoothed her hair, running his fingers through it, feeling the silkiness fall between them. Rubbing in small circles and long lines across her body, there was pressure where his hands fell on her, just enough pressure to remind her that she was in his arms and she was safe with him. It wasn't long until her breaths got deeper, heavier, her heart rate slowed, her body stopped the restless constant twitches and adjustments, she yielded to sleep. Still soothing, rubbing, caressing he didn't sleep, not yet. He was reminding her, consciously or subconsciously, that he was still there, still intertwined with her, not moving, not leaving.

The ring of his phone startled him, he reached for it quickly hoping that she would do little more than stir against him, hoping that she would drift back to sleep. He talked softly, it was Shaw, the call he'd been waiting for. Middle of the night or middle of the day they had a routine when these calls came, a process that was always the same from the time of that very first call. He had always removed himself at least a little distance from her, tried to keep the calls private, shield her from this part of it. Tonight he felt her stir when the phone rang, but in that moment of decision, to stay or to pull himself away from her, he felt her pull into him, heard her mumble, her simple sleepy mumble, "no." He pulled her tighter with his free hand, he wasn't moving away this time, this time he would stay right where he was and if she overheard, they would talk it out or cry it out, whatever they did they would do it together. She didn't want him to leave and he wouldn't. Another difference, another change.

Shaw started right in, Cullen had briefed her when he came by the hospital shortly after they had left. Bill Phelps was on his way to Metro's central booking. The whole legal process set in full motion. His story was interesting but brief, he'd lawyered up immediately. What they knew, she would pass on to Booth. He was 27. Cullen described him as charming at first, on the surface, but the facade faded quickly revealing an obstinate, unhappy sonofabitch. He'd joined the military right out of high school, served for several years, but, his oppositional personality, volatile temper, and more than one altercation earned him a Other Than Honorable Discharge. Although his own time in the military had left him battered in many ways, both emotionally and physically, Booth was passionate about the military. Felt deeply the responsibility and honor that came from having served his country honorably as a soldier. He hated this kind of man, this kind of soldier. It took the dedicated actions of every soldier to uphold the fine tradition, only a few, at any level of service, to disparage it.

After leaving the military Phelps had been hired by a mercenary/private security detail company that specialized in security in war torn countries. No doubt it was that charm that had smoothed over his military record in the eyes of the Blackriver execs that hired him. Spinning the situation to his advantage, turning the military into a limited organization keeping him from serving like he could for a company like Blackriver. Eventually he'd been involved in too many altercations, too many situations where his actions reflected poorly on the company. Not enough charm to smooth them over, after several years with Blackriver he was fired. Apparently, after being laid off he freelanced, living mostly outside of the US for a couple years. Using savings from the money he earned at Blackriver to live, supplementing with occasional private security jobs here and there. When he was totally broke and there was no more business coming in he started looking for work in the states. He moved home to live with his parents which led him to his current employment as security and theft prevention specialist for Foer's Pharmacy in DC.

He had a coiled snake tattoo just where Bones had said, looked just like she'd described. Booth found it hard to control his own anger, felt it boiling inside, it was hard not to picture the circumstances that imprinted the picture of that tattoo in her mind. It was Booth who needed the connection now, he slid his hand up and down her, then back up under her night shirt, his fingers skated along the slight bump of her ribs. She snuggled into him letting out the softest moan of contentment. All reminders that she was here with him, under his protection now, not in a cold dark alley, not under that other man's grip. She stretched against him settling again. He had to ask Shaw to repeat herself, his mind had wandered.

There wasn't much more though, the manager from Foer's said that he was everything you might expect from a drug store security guard. They hired him because he'd been the most qualified person they interviewed. He had been there almost 2 years. Mentioned in passing that recently they themselves had problems with some missing or stolen medications. They had Phelps investigating it, setting up extra security for the pharmacy area. They would provide a list of the drugs to the bureau immediately.

Setting the phone back on the nightstand he brought both arms around her, holding tight to the beautiful lady in his grasp. Taking a moment to breath, to feel her here with him, he loved this change, this change he wanted to keep forever. He was almost settled himself, feeling very ready to sleep when his cell rang again, unexpected. A text from Shaw, "Halverson died."

* * *

A/N Happy Halloween! One of our family's favorite holiday, one day a year you're completely encouraged to play dress-up and pretend. Of course, we have a tendency to do that everyday in our house regardless, this just happens to be the one day a year no one looks at us funny for it. :) Hope you're having a wonderful day regardless of whether you celebrate the holiday or not!

Special thanks to dharmamonkey, givesup, craftyjhawk, for advice, support, help, and overall awesomeness!

I have a new twitter dg_schneider - drop by and say hello sometime!

Thanks again for all the reviews and comments - I panic a little, okay, maybe a lot, each time a post a chapter - that feedback really helps and always gets me excited to work on the next chapter!


	23. Chapter 23

She woke tangled in Booth.

At first she just lay there, but then she couldn't help but move her hands carefully over his body. Trying not to wake him, cataloging his structure was something she'd discovered she found very calming. His musculature, though strong, couldn't hide his bones from her, his foundation, his core. Never pressing hard enough to wake him she used just enough pressure to comfort herself. Occasionally he'd stir, pulling her closer each time, mumbling to her in his sleep. Most nights it didn't take long before she found her balance, her safety in him and eventually fell back asleep. Not tonight.

After what seemed like hours**,** she finally gave up the idea of going back to sleep. She couldn't get Mrs. Halverson's face out of her mind, couldn't quiet her voice in her head telling her over and over that she was wrong about her husband. Slowly, carefully she moved out of Booth's arms, disentangling herself. She crept quietly out of the room, collected the paper from outside the front door, and started coffee.

It wasn't long before the smell of strong black coffee filled the apartment. This morning it reached him before his alarm, a gentler, better way to wake up. It was one of the most comforting smells to Booth. It was the smell of safety, the smell of Pop's house. He let out a huge morning groan, clearing his throat, stretching. He was stiff and moved slowly as he rolled and pushed his body up to sit on the edge of the bed. Rubbing his hands over his face, he gave his body time to adjust to being awake and moving.

Stumbling his way to the kitchen he stopped and took in the sight of her. She stood still leaning slightly over the newspaper, arms stretched out for support, spread open across the table. Her coffee cup sitting on the paper, steam swirled up from it. He came up behind her, his hands meeting her hips first then moving gently around her waist. He felt her breathe, that comforted, _I feel safe _intake of air she did right before she let him completely envelopher. He closed his eyes for just a moment, savoring it. One of her delicate hands came up and slid along his forearm to his hand demanding that it stay in place holding her to let out a long breath enjoying the feel of her. His body tingled, his sensation heightened by her early morning touch.

It was when he opened them that his heart sank. Reading over her shoulder, he realized why she had been frozen. It wasn't some new find in some ancient country that fascinated her or some political hijinks they would argue over later. It wasn't the economy or business or religion. He would have gladly taken any of those. Instead, he found himself staring down at a haunting headline, _"Famous Author, Dr. Temperance Brennan, Sexually Assaulted."_ Pulling his arms from around her waist he turned her quickly into a full embrace. He buried his head in her neck, her hair cascading around his face, and she tucked into him as tightly as she could.

"I'm so sorry, Bones."

It was a couple moments before she spoke. In those moments he felt her – felt her think, felt her process, felt her breathe, felt her cling to him. What surprised him was that there weren't any tears, no shuddering breaths. When she finally broke her silence telling him that she was okay he wasn't sure whether to believe her. Everything outwardly pointed to her being okay with this, even though he personally couldn't think of anything okay about it.

"It doesn't seem real." Her voice was calm and collected. "I have written many words that have been published, Booth. I've read my own writing published in prestigious journals, in newspapers, in magazines, in novels." Her tone shifted, an edge of confusion slipped through, "I know I wrote those words. I remember writing them. You were there with me." He nodded rubbing his hands up and down her back as a measure of support and concern. Nearby her phone buzzed, vibrated on the counter, over and over. He closed his eyes pulling his focus back to her. "However, for reasons I can't explain, these words seem foreign and surreal. I thought if I read them over again that would change, but I have read them several times now and it hasn't." She stiffened in his arms. "So, I've decided that I am okay with this." She pulled out of his embrace squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye, "I am okay with this."

He knew she was trying to convince herself just as much as she was trying to convince him. The difference seemed to be that she was willing to buy into her own charade and he wasn't. For him there were red flags flying, popping up everywhere but what could he do about it? He couldn't very well tell her that she was faking, that she wasn't being honest with herself. She would deny it. He couldn't push her to admit what she was really feeling, he knew her well enough to know she would push back and slip farther away from him. He had to just be there for her, be ready when she was ready. The hardest part of all was to watch her slip back into the habit of compartmentalizing. Watch her pack up her emotions, box them away, shove them aside. His fear was that while she was boxing up this, all this overwhelming emotion surrounding the assault, she would box up and separate herself from the emotions she had finally let herself feel for him. He could see the beginning of it right here as she'd physically pulled away from him.

He listened, he nodded his understanding, then spoke. "Well," he started slowly, "I'm glad you're okay with all this because I'm not."

She stared at him, her eyes getting wider, glossier. He could see fear and anger and confusion flooding them in the form of tears she fought to hold in. She folded her arms across her chest, staying herself. All of the emotions she refused to admit to puddled in those beautiful eyes. He reached out and grabbed her shoulders. "I'm not okay with it. I love you and I wish there was some way to protect you from all of his." He gestured openly to the paper. "I wish I could take this away. It makes me angry and frustrated and . . ." He stopped talking, took the time to pull her chin and her frightened gaze up to his. "And so proud of you for being so strong and willing to do this even though it's awful and it hurts you more deeply than you'll admit, even to me. I see it, I know." He'd said the right thing. She let out a long held breath, her eyes softened to him, andshe pulled herself back into his body. She let him hold her and nodded agreement against his chest.

They stayed that way for a long time, then she pushed off of his chest. She couldn't stay still anymore, she needed to _do_ something. She pushed Booth to go into the Jeffersonian early. He agreed. She moved first, in an act of defiance, gathered up the newspaper and threw it away. Then paused looking down at her phone, lights blinking, screaming the number of missed calls, emails, messages.

He picked up her phone and pocketed it. "Not right now, you don't need to deal with that right now." They set about their morning routine until they were standing at the door getting ready to leave. It had been the very definition of autopilot, going through the motions while their brains individually chewed on what the day and the press release would bring. The constant vibrations of her phone seemed to hold the answers.

All morning he'd worried about her. They had talked very little on the way in. When he tried to bring up last night at the hospital, she shut the conversation down quickly. When he revisited the press release,she did the same. They talked only briefly when he told her about the call he had with Shaw in the middle of the night. Mostly she asked questions and the interaction was strictly informational. She handled the discussions as if it were another case, not relating to her at all. In fact, he thought she was even less personal than when they were on a case. Then she always shared her thoughts, her anthropological insights, even her emotions. This felt more distant than that. Her demeanor barely changed when he told her that Halverson had died.

But she kissed him goodbye, long and hard and clung to him for a minute before pulling away and darting out of the truck. He sat there for a minute, the sting of her aggressive kiss still on his lips. He watched carefully until she entered the Jeffersonian and the doors closed behind her. He couldn't help it, he pounded his fist into the steering wheel before he drove off feeling very much like he left his mind and heart with Bones back at the Jeffersonian.

He sat in a meeting with Shaw, Cullen, and Sweets as they discussed the backgrounds of the three men and tried to find a connection, any connection. Information, pictures, scribbles spread out across boards.

It didn't make sense. Sweets gave profiles and personality types, yammered on and on. He swiveled in his conference room chair, followed Booth's path as he paced. None of it connected. None of it made a difference when they tried to piece it together. More frustrated, more angry. Booth wore a path in the carpet back and forth. One hand worked feverishly at rotating dice with his fingers, the other rubbed his forehead and the back of his neck. Occasionally it came to his eyes and he pinched the bridge of his nose. His mind wandered. Why couldn't they have gotten more from Halverson before he died? He seemed like the most likely to turn and give it up. Too late for that, though. Maybe his wife knew something. They would bring her in for questioning in a day or two.

Absorbed in his thoughts, Booth completely lost track of the conversation going on around didn't even register Sweets' question at first: "you okay, Agent Booth?"

Booth didn't answer immediately, he just kept moving with intensity and purpose until all eyes were on him waiting for an answer. "Yeah," he said, answering Sweets almost defensively. "Yeah, of course I'm okay. I'm just, you know."

Booth's eyes darted from person to person in the room. "I'm going to talk to Angela, have her go farther into their backgrounds, see if there's a connection somewhere we haven't found." Amid the nods and agreements,he left the conference room and headed back to his office.

He messaged Angela. It didn't take long and there she was on his computer screen, vialive link.

"Hey," he said, letting out a worried breath as he dove in. "On these three." He paused, tried to hide the disdain in his voice and sound professional. "Suspects, can you research their pasts. There has to be something that connects them that we haven't found. Maybe if we find that we can find some common acquaintances. Maybe the fourth guy is somewhere in all their pasts."

"Hey there, big guy, a good morning to you too." Angela was a dedicated and hard worker, but this world of crime seemed to have chosen her not the other way around. She insisted on pleasantries – it was one way she held onto the little shred of humanity she could carve out of the ghastly world of darkness she worked in.

"I'm sorry, Ange. Good morning." He sounded sufficiently reprimanded, slightly defeated, and completely distracted. She hadn't seen him this worked up since this whole ordeal began. Most days, even in the worst of it, he maintained control and a strength that had impressed her.

"It's okay, Booth."She couldn't help but feel immediately sorry for the guy. "Are you okay?"

"Why does everyone keep asking that?" The edge in his voice was obvious, "I'm fine. I'm not the one everyone should be thinking about, right?"

Angela's eyebrows had a language all their own. She carried a calm, pleasant, and poised disposition while her eyebrows laid you flat without saying a word. Right thenthey screamed at him, "Really?"

"Really." The tension was obvious in his tone and in his intense brown eyes and in his pulsing jaw. "I need you to dig until you find something connecting these three bastards. Something we can use to leverage Phelps and Clyve."

"Okay, Booth, if there's a connection I'll find it for you." She was about to hang up when he stopped her.

"Angela, how is she, you know, doing today?" He fiddled with the papers on his desk and wouldn't look at the webcam directly.

"You're still coming to take her lunch, right?"

"Yeah, of course, I'm just kind of worried about her. It's been a rough couple days." He hoped that she had talked to Angela about it all: the hospital, the newspaper article, the guy's wife, the guy dying. He knew it was a lot to take in and process. He wanted her to talk to him, to feel comfortable enough to talk to him. But, at this point he didn't even care if it was him as long as she talked to someone. "You know about the press release, right?"

"Oh, right. She hasn't left her office and when I've tried to talk to her, she just dismissed me." She shifted her weight. "She's been reading and cataloging emails and messages all morning to either respond to personally or send to her publicist to handle. She's very, well Brennan-ish, calculated, organized, efficient." She paused for a minute, "distant." She knew immediately that was the problem; she saw it in the flash of Booth's eyes when she said the word. She started to push for more details from him.

"Thanks, Ange, I'll see you soon." He hung up, stood with his hands on his hips, head hung low, then pulled a ball from his desk and started bouncing it rhythmically against his office wall. _Bounce, catch, bounce, catch._The movement helped him think and calmed him down. In about an hour, he would go pick her up for lunch. Maybe they could call it a day early and get away from the constant reminder of everything they didn't know, everything they wanted to forget. Maybe they could just get away, he wished . . . he dreamed, maybe a cabin in some remote place where there was no wifi or cable or cell service. That's what he focused on until it was time to go pick her up.

If sniper training had taught him one important skill, it was how to walk quietly, so quietly that it was easy to sneak up on people. One of his favorite things to do was watch her work. He'd done it for years. He would quietly stand in a hall, in a doorway, just for a few seconds, just until she felt his presence. Today he leaned against the doorjamb to her office and watched as she worked feverishly at her desk. When she finally looked up at him, at his adoring look, she stopped and stilled completely. He made her heart pound. She knew he could see it in the short shallow breaths that made her chest move involuntarily in quick slight jerks.

Her day had been long. Sorting through email and messages had been tedious. Well wishers, people sympathizing, criticisms, offers of support, requests for interviews, statements, all of them pried in one way or another. It shouldn't have been but it was easy to separate herself from the messages, to sort and catalog them as if they belonged to someone else. It had been the perfect busy work for her brain as she sought some way to sort her feelings and thoughts about the last couple days. Booth had wanted her to talk to him this morning, she knew that. He wanted her to share. Truth was, she was so overwhelmed by what had happened that she didn't know where to start, what to say or how to say it. She'd spent most of the morning rehearsing conversations with Booth in her head. She told him what it felt like to see the pain in that woman's eyes. That she knew the ache of learning that someone you loved was not what you thought they were. She experienced that with her father. She practiced, in her mind, told Booth that she couldn't get the lady's face out of her head, how it was there every time she closed her eyes. She told him how confused it made her that he was a good husband and father to his family and a rapist to her. She knew Booth and how he would react so it was easy to work out how he would respond and what she would say back. The conversations were long, deep, involved, completely silent, non-verbal, and exclusively in her head.

She stared him, at the stubble that had been there since last night because he was too tired to shave this morning. Stared at his worried brow, his loving eyes, his protective stance, she was speechless again. She wrestled with it and she hated that she wrestled with it. If there was one person on Earth that she should be able to tell anything to, it should be Booth. It was Booth. This was one of those things that she didn't know if she could change about herself or how to change it for that matter. In that moment, she still couldn't get the words out.

Still helpless to move, she watched as he pushed himself off the door jamb and came to stand behind her. One hand came to rest gently across her chest right below where her clavicles met at the base of her throat. He could feel her short staggered breaths and her heart race. The other hand brushed her bangs aside, pulled her head back just a little, and laid lay a long solid kiss on her forehead. He bent down, brought his head down by his, "I love you," he whispered in her ear.

As her eyes closed in the moment, his eyes opened. Looking over her shoulder, he saw something that disturbed him. He knew she had been working on emails and messages all morning. Her screen had an email pulled up on it now. "Sorry, Bones, but is that email from the asshat that stood you up, the one who sent those flowers?"

It yanked her from the moment so abruptly that she only nodded her response. He knelt beside her and asked, "Do you mind if I read it?"

"No, of course not, Booth." They read it for the first time together.

_Temperance,_

_I read about your ordeal in the paper this morning. It seems that this happened the night we were supposed to meet for drinks. I am surprised that you haven't said anything to me. After all these years I don't think I should have to learn about this in paper. Especially since you were supposed to be meeting me when it happened. Though brilliant in many ways, I realize that you are often inadequate in your knowledge of social skill. I will excuse the faux pas though for future reference you should have told me personally, given our longstanding relationship. _

_Please let me know a time when you can meet so that we can talk in person. I would like to help you through this difficult time. As you know my body of work deals almost exclusively with this very subject. I would bring a great deal of expertise and knowledge to light on your experience. As a fellow academia I understand the helpful nature of knowledge in baring ones burdens. _

_Yours,_

_Ian Chambers_

Booth reached around her, silently he forwarded the email to Shaw, Sweets, and Angela with a note telling them to double check his alibi, analyze his language, and research his past. He turned off her screen, then turned her chair, grabbed Bones' hand, and pulled her out of it. "We're going to lunch now." He stopped and turned her eyes to his. "All messages go to Angela from now on, okay? She can filter them for you. She knows you, she knows who you will want to hear from." He didn't say it but Angela would be able to look at them and send the suspicious ones to Sweets and Shaw. Her head fell into the palm of his sturdy hand as he brushed her cheek softly and protectively. He tugged and they started to walk again, leaving her office behind them.

A couple more steps and she finally spoke, "I don't want to meet with him, Booth."

* * *

A/N What a week?! Feels like I've been existing in a whirlwind of life . . .maybe a tornado. But everybody made it though and it's Friday and a long weekend so life is good :)

Thank you so much for all the support and friendship - it really helped as we dealt with my mom falling, breaking a hip and her pelvis, surgery, and now rehab for her. I've found a whole new circle of friends here and on twitter ( dg_schneider) that have been so wonderful, supportive, and fun. Thank you also to all that have read and left reviews. In the hours in the ER and hospital they were a wonderful distraction. They definitely helped pass the time and keep my mind away from worrying about the things I couldn't control.

Special thanks to Dharmamonkey for her general awesomeness and guidance!

In case you're wondering, I am always dying to know what your thoughts are...always!


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Halverson's widow sat in the conference room at the Hoover building. Nervously, she pulled at her crumpled Kleenex shifting it in her fingers. Occasionally, she would bring it back up to her eyes to dab at what seemed like an endless supply of tears. She was stuck in between the world she had known with her husband and the world that had come to light after his accident. She was stuck in between his death and his funeral. She was stuck in between an overwhelming sense of loss and rage.

From the outside Booth and Sweets looked in on her through the conference room's glass walls. This wasn't the best part of the job by far. Neither man wanted to make Amy Halverson hurt any worse than she already was. But, things being as they were, they had no other option. Clyve and Phelps weren't talking. Halverson had died. On the surface these three men had nothing in common, had never met, didn't associate. Yet, there was a string of rapes, originating at the same location, that could be linked to all three through evidence and testimony. They needed something to work with, some bit of information, that would set them on the path to finding that connection. It was their only hope of leveraging a confession and details from the other men. Their only hope of finding the identity of the fourth rapist.

Booth slapped Sweets on the back with his thick case file as he moved to open the door. "It's not going to get any easier, kid," he said quietly as he ushered Sweets into the conference room.

Sweets took the lead by making the introductions, "Mrs. Halverson, it's good to see you again. As you remember I am Dr. Lance Sweets and this is Special Agent Seeley Booth." they shook hands and got settled in their seats.

"I remember," she said quietly. "I met you at the hospital when Jim died." Tears sprang from her eyes, her shoulders jerked as she fought to regain control. "I'm not sure why I'm here. I don't see how I could possibly be any help to you." She sniffled and wiped her nose. "I didn't know anything about this. I still can't even believe this is happening." She hung her head.

Booth stood, his tension palpable. He got Mrs. Halverson a glass of water while Sweets tried to comfort her. "It may seem that way," he began, "but there may be little things about his behavior or past that may seem insignificant to you but will help us in bringing the other men involved to justice."

She sat quietly and nodded. Booth looked at this woman. He saw her swollen eyes from crying, felt the shame that rolled off of her, the hurt, the broken trust. Images of Bones flashed through his mind, the ER, the nightmares. All the times she raced to the bathroom so overwhelmed it literally turned her stomach. Her pain, her fear, her shame mixed with what he saw before him, and all the memories of all the other victims they interviewed. Men like Halverson left a trail of pain and grief behind them. Nothing enraged Booth more than men like him.

He set the glass down in front of her and took his seat again. "Mrs. Halverson, maybe you could start by just telling us about your husband."

She took a long deep breath, held it for just a moment then let it out. "Jim is, was, a civil engineer. We were married for almost 15 years. The last couple years have been the best. You know how it is when you're young and married and have little kids. Jim worked all the time back then. Twelve, fourteen hour days, sometimes longer. He was never home. It was me and the kids at home alone for years. Then he took an assignment overseas. He came back different. Good different. He was so lonely there, missed us so much. He would call, we would talk and email but it wasn't the same, you know? I guess one morning he woke up and was just done, he quit and came home, got a different job, eight to five, no overtime. Then he was always home always with me and the kids. Helped with dinner and dishes, did laundry, coached little league, took me out on dates every week. He was perfect."

"Where was his overseas assignment, Amy?" Sweets interjected.

"Oh, it was in the Philippines, in Manilla mostly. I think he had a month or so supervising a job in Angeles City. It was a horrible place. He hated it there. I hated him being there. But, I don't know if he would have changed if he hadn't been so miserable and I loved the man he became."

"Did he make any friends there, stay in contact with anyone from his time there?" Booth, who was usually warm with people like Amy Halverson, was struggling. Sweets could see it in the ticking of his jaw, in his aloof but professional questions.

"No, no. Jim was never a friend kind of guy. Well," she hesitated and then continued, "until recently. He started to get together with some guys from work for poker nights. It was the first time in all the time I've known him that he ever did anything like that. He's been so wonderful since he came home. I encouraged it, I wanted him to have that."

Booth followed up quickly. "Do you have the names of the men he played poker with or the dates of the games?"

"No, he was private about it. Like he was embarrassed that he was even doing it and there was no set schedule. Every once in a while he would tell me that he got an invite or a message that they were having one and he was invited." She sat for a moment. Heavy silence filled the room. Booth and Sweets watched as her mind connected the pieces. "Oh no, no, no. Oh, God, no." The rest poured out of her as she worked the thought out loud. "He would come home late, really late, and wouldn't even touch me until he'd showered and changed." They could see the terror in her eyes as the revelation pierced her. "He always blamed it on the smokers at the game. He didn't want that to bother me, to get that smell on me. He was always kind of drunk and irritable. He said he was doing it for me, showering getting cleaned up for me. Then he would come to bed and cuddle. Always wanted to just cuddle." Booth knew the look, he moved quickly bringing the trashcan to her. He motioned for Sweets to take over. He came to console her, got her some Kleenex and freshened up her water. Booth excused himself and walked it off outside the conference room. Hands on his hips, staring at the ceiling he begged God to give him the strength he needed to stay calm. After a few minutes he poked his head back in the room where Sweets was doing his shrinky thing. It was clear that Amy Halverson was grateful for his help and perspective. He watched as Sweets slid a couple of business cards across the table to her. He explained, they were for organizations that helped families in the position that she was in.

Booth interrupted. "I think were done for today. Thank you for your help Mrs. Halverson, we'll be in touch if we have any more questions." His phone buzzed right as he was closing the door. "Booth." His voice was measured, a forced calm at best.

Pounding was the first thing Booth heard when he answered the phone. Pounding and what sounded like Angela screaming at someone to open the door. He called out to her a couple times before she answered him. "You have to get home." Angela was always calm and collected. He'd seen her in so many crisis situations and she was never flustered like this. "Now! Come now, Booth. Please." She begged him to hurry. She didn't know, she couldn't see, but he was already moving. He banged on the elevator button repeatedly. Frustrated with how long it was taking he turned ready to take the stairs when the doors dinged and the elevator opened.

She was talking so fast both to him and Bones, at least that was his assumption. That's what had him running through the parking garage as fast as he could. "Angela, Angela, slow down. Breathe!" He could hear her pounding on a door. "Angela." His voice was loud and firm. "Angela, tell me what happened." On the road now, sirens blared, his hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, the muscles in his forearms were taut, they twitched from the tension.

The pounding on the door stopped. She steadied herself then launched into an explanation. "Booth, she . . . God, I'm so sorry, Booth." She was calmer but still her mind was bouncing around. "After lunch I took her shopping. We had such a good time at lunch laughing and talking. I just thought, it was a small shop, not the mall or anything big like that. Something happened, I don't even know what happened, Booth. She seemed fine, I swear, she seemed to be into it and having fun, like we used to. She was there with me by the dressing rooms we were about to try things on then I turned around and she was gone." His heart nearly stopped. Was she saying that she had disappeared again.

He interrupted her abruptly. "Is she missing? Do you know she's at my house?"

"She's here, I brought her here. She told me to bring her here. I found her outside the shop. God, Booth, she was curled up on the cement sobbing right outside the door. I got her to the car and she just kept yelling for me to take her home."

He was headed to his apartment, he slammed on the brakes to turn the other direction when Angela continued. "I was doing it right? I was taking her to her apartment. Right, that's what she said she wanted but she meant your apartment. When she realized I was taking her to her apartment she started screaming at me again." The memory was so fresh, Angela was overwhelmed just talking about it. "Booth, I hadn't even stopped the car, she jumped out and ran." Booth could hear the frustration in Angela's voice. It sounded like she was talking through clenched teeth. "Now she won't let me in." he could hear her rattling the door again fiercely.

"Just leave her, I'm almost home, Ange. She won't answer the door if she's upset."

There and parked within minutes, he bounded up the stair two or three at a time keys out and ready. Angela sat on the floor, her back against his door, head leaned all the way back. She wiped tears. He reached out his hand to help her up, thanked her for calling him, for getting her home safely, for doing her best. Then he sent her home with the promise that he would call her later to let her know how things worked out.

Life had become so settled for them, even in the middle of this constant crisis. They had developed habits. She had a side of the bed and her space in the closet was always the same. They divvied up drawers, sat in the same seats at the table each night. He had his spot on the couch, she had the rest of it. When he walked through the door that's where she was, sitting in his spot on the couch. Arms wrapped firmly around her knees, knees pulled pulled tightly to her chest, Head tucked away, she was completely curled up.

She had lost so much weight. Wearing his sweatshirt – his oversized old gray FBI sweatshirt that he had worn this morning on their run she looked even smaller. It made her look fragile, with her fingers barely poking out of the cuffs, tiny and frail. But what really broke him was the look in her tear swollen eyes when she pulled her head up and looked at him. He could see and, worse than anything else, feel that she had retreated. Something had happened when she was out with Angela that had obviously shaken her so badly that she retreated from everything.

He shed himself of the world and work as he made his way to her across the room. His coat, keys, gun, holster, all left behind him as he came to sit in front of her on the coffee table. She wanted to fall into his arms. Wanted to hide in him. However, she didn't move, just took a long shuddered breath resting her head on her knees.

He wiped away a tear. Her entire body jerked when he touched her. His heart sank, he was so tired, exhausted, he just wanted her to talk to him. The last few days were quiet like the days initially following the assault when she was trying to process everything that was happening. When she talked, which seemed rare, it was always about something else, never about this. He wanted her to tell him what happened, what she was thinking, what she needed, what she wanted him to do.

Carefully, he brushed her hair behind her ear, out of the way so he could see her face. This time she didn't flinch. He watched as her body loosened. Her muscles eased, released some of their protective tension. She was so frustrated with herself. She _knew_ him, she _trusted_ him, what she needed wasn't anything he would balk at or argue with, nothing he would deny her. Her silence was completely her own. She fought years of protecting herself, hiding her weaknesses, hiding her pain, her insecurities. Her feet inched out away from her body towards the edge of the couch. In a way she reached out to him. She argued with her fears, wrestled with her weaknesses. He saw it in her eyes, watched as she fought with herself. Waited, he wanted to give her a chance to talk to him.

As her feet inched toward the edge of the couch he brought his hands to the sides of her legs wrapping the strength of them around her calves, leaning his body into hers. Her hands fell to his wrists holding them, begging him to stay. He rested his forehead on hers. The stillness in the apartment should have been disconcerting but it wasn't. They could take a minute, they could just be, he told himself.

"Will you tell me what happened?" He asked her so quietly. She scouted a little closer to the edge, closer to him, but still wasn't talking. He tried to prime the pump a little. "Angela said you went shopping after lunch. Where'd you go?"

"Lotus Blossom in Alexandria." She blushed just a little. "It's a lingerie shop. Angela shops there."

He brought one hand up and wrapped it protectively around her neck. Like her hand on his wrist, it was his way of telling her that he didn't want her to move away from him. He was insisting that she stay, like this, with him. "Lingerie?"

"Yes, she felt that since you and I have not had intercourse that maybe I needed some lingerie. Though I don't see how lingerie would make a difference in whether we copulated or not she seemed to think it would help me." He could barely contain a small laugh and smile. God, he loved her, he couldn't help it, he just did.

Silence settled back in, he could feel her pulse begin to race under his hand. She knew she should tell him the rest, that's what he wanted, what happened next. Instead she sat in silence, her eyes closed tight. The memory vivid. She hadn't really wanted to go but she knew it was important to Angela. They used to shop together all the time, shop and talk. Lunch was good. It was hard work though, staying calm still took so much work, so much focus. Angela promised it was a small shop, they would be in and out quickly. But then there was no parking and they had to walk quite a ways. It was still lunch time and the sidewalks were busy and crowded in Old Town Alexandria. She felt it coming on, but tried to fight it, stayed close to Angela, tried to concentrate on her breathing. In the shop it was better, at first they were the only ones there. They laughed and joked, pulled items to try on, but then others trickled into the store. She held on, maintained, until they were waiting for a dressing room to be opened. Someone bumped into her. She hadn't seen them coming, certainly didn't expect the panic. All she could think was _I have to get out of here _and so she did. She dropped the items she'd been holding and left. Get some air, that was her plan. She stepped outside and put her hand on the old brick store front to steady herself. The feel of the brick under her hand reminded her body and mind of that night in the ally. It all came back, she couldn't stop it, couldn't breathe, couldn't move. Images flashed in her mind, she saw things that she had pushed away. Now they wouldn't stay away. What she saw confused her. Were the images real? Did that happen like she remembered or was her mind playing tricks on her? She sank to the ground and pulled into herself trying to ride out the wave of the worst flashback she'd ever had.

Booth had waited out her silence, her pulse calmed back down, her body relaxed a little. She hadn't realized it but she'd dug her fingernails into Booth's wrist while she'd been thinking about her experience this afternoon. He didn't tell her but was relieved when she eased her grip. Now she cleared her throat and spoke. "I need to take a bath."

"No." His response startled her. She started to pull away. He didn't let her go just repeated himself. "No. I need to know what happened to you. I need you to tell me." His voice was soft and low, tender but firm.

"I can't." There was a heavy grief in her voice. "I don't know how."

"Okay, okay," he whispered to her and let her go. With his grip loosened she put her feet on the floor and stood slowly. His hands stayed on her, her body moving under them, he was holding her hand. "Okay."

But it wasn't okay, not with him, not with her. She walked away until the length of their arms left her with a decision. She stopped, "I don't want to be alone," and tugged on him, she pulled him with her. He followed her into the edge of the bathroom. Then leaned up against the wall as she lit candles and started the water running for her bath. Not sure exactly what she meant, he waited and watched. Eventually, she came to stand in the middle of the tiny room staring at him, face to face, only a couple feet between them. He pushed off of the wall and stepped into her space his hands came to her hips, to the thicker ribbed edge of his sweatshirt. Where his fingers played with the frayed edges of the old ribbing.

"I wore this running this morning." Already effected by the potential of this moment his voices was calm but his breathing wasn't.

"It smelt like you." It made sense, wrapped in his clothes, his scent, sitting in his spot, that's how she'd waited for him to come home. One step closer, her head came into his neck. He felt her breath on him. "It was awful."

"Well, that's why it was in the dirty clothes." It's not what she'd meant, he knew that, but they he couldn't resist. His dry response was met with a light laugh and the faintest snort. Something he'd heard from her often over the years and found wonderfully endearing. He pulled the sweatshirt over her head and off of her body. He voice turned serious. "I know it was, Bones, even though I don't know what happened to you. I know it was awful."

Frustration filled her expression, her hands were shaking too much to effectively unbutton her blouse. Gently he wrapped his hands around hers and pulled them down away from her shirt. His were steady, he unbuttoned her blouse for her. She looked down at his thick strong fingers as they nimbly worked, then closed her eyes. "I didn't really want to go, Booth; but, I didn't want to tell her no. I wanted to want to go. If that makes any sense. It sounded like fun, it should have been fun."

The tension raised in her voice with each sentence. He leaned in, his mouth so close to her ear that his lips brushed up against it as he talked. "It's okay, you're okay now." It tickled and she couldn't help it, she nuzzled into him. "I'm here. I won't leave you" Like a kiss, his words landed on her ear. She nodded. He slipped the shirt off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

"It was so ridiculous, Booth, I was standing there waiting with her for the dressing room. Someone bumped me. That was it. They bumped me and I couldn't hold it back anymore. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't stay." She felt him tug on her waistband pulling her hips to his. An involuntary moan escaped her and her hands grabbed at his shoulders to hold on. He worked the button and zipper. Rounding her hips, his hands slid into her pants and ran along her thighs pushing them down. She steadied herself with both hands on his broad shoulders as she stepped out of her pants.

There she was in her bra and underwear. No fancy lingerie, she'd left all that in a pile on the floor of the Lotus Blossom. It was just plain her which was perfect for him. That's all he wanted.

They stood there a moment, stared into each other. "Don't leave, please don't leave," she begged.

"I'm not going to leave." He brushed the hair off her shoulder. Tenderly he lifted the strap and let it fall off her arm. Her neck fell to the side and he couldn't resist kissing along the long beautiful plain of her neck and shoulder. She leaned her head to the other side and enjoyed the gentle brush of his lips as he repeated the process on the other side then wrapped his arms around her. She felt his fingers on the clasp of her bra, he hesitated until he felt her nod into his neck. She granted him her silent permission. Gently he unclasped her bra. It joined the pile at her feet, She pulled into his body and held onto him with all her strength. Breathing didn't seem like such an involuntary function all of a sudden.

Pressing her body to his, his hands ran up and down her back. Until on one trip back down they didn't stop, just continued on, under the edge of her panties, he pushed them down over and off her hips until they fell too. Whispered reminders filled her head as her held her for a moment. It was important to him that she knew he loved her and he would stop; if she was uncomfortable all she had to do was tell him, he'd stop. He tried hard to breath and not choke on his own desire as he felt her nakedness under his hands.

"My bath is ready." She pulled away, he held her hand, and steadied her as she climbed into the tub. She was beautiful. The candle light danced on her skin, flickered on her, highlighted her perfect curves, flickered across the water. He thought he might die right there his heart pounded hard and fast. As she sunk into the warm water she looked up into his eyes. "Hold me." Such a small statement, two tiny words that would change everything because this time there was no question he would hold her, no hesitation. He nodded and began to undress where she had stood just moments earlier adding to the pile of discarded clothes. His eyes never left her.

There was a beautiful unspoken symbolism in it all. Being willing to bare themselves to each other. Him, willing to stand there and share himself with her in this way. Her allowing him this privilege after everything that had happened to her. As he stepped out of pants and boxers, as he slid the striped socks from his feet, they were on completely equal ground. A smile graced her lips as she slid forward in the tub, her knees drawn up to her chest so he could climb in behind her. He did, his long legs stretched out on either side of her. She felt his hands grip her hips and pull her back into him. Immediately she fell back into his chest. She closed her eyes as she fought a losing battle to hold back tears of relief. "It's okay, baby, you can cry. It's okay to cry." Whispers of appreciation and comfort, faint strokes along her delicate skin, kisses on the top of her head, she felt safety pool around her like never before.

They passed the time in relative quiet, there was very little to say, more to feel, and a need to just be together. One touch led to another, exploration and appreciation, fluid movements. The water made each touch seem ethereal. He washed her, washed her hair and her body, gently, tenderly, his hands glided over her skin with just a wash clothe separating him from every inch of her. She relaxed into him. Every touch, every stroke of his hand seem to make another horrible encroaching thought detach and leave her. Somehow, and she really didn't understand how, it seemed she was closer to him than just her skin on his. If she could, she would stay like this forever. And then the water cooled and Booth told her it was time to get out. She didn't want this to end, in protest she wrapped her arms firmly around him. He appreciated her hesitation, her reluctance to leave this moment, he understood.

He grabbed a towel to wrap around her, dabbing at her hair and skin. More and more she felt he hands brush against her, less and less of the towel to separate them. "I want to touch you," he breathed against her neck. "I want to make love to you, Temperance. Is that okay?"

Being wanted, by him, there was no way to tell him how much that meant to her especially after everything that had happened. She was overwhelmed by his request. "Yes." Her breathy response was barely audible. Her hands roamed greedily across his body. "Yes." Clearer, stronger, more demanding this time. Every part of him she could touch she pulled at trying to get him closer. "Yes." Now her voice was insistent. She had wrapped her strong nimble fingers around him, felt him, pulled, pushed. She watched as his head fell back and an uncontrolled groan of pleasure roared from him.

He started to move her out of the bathroom to what used to be his bed, what was now solidly their bed. He had prepared for this. And here it all came together, mentally, emotionally, physically, and yet he felt almost like a baby trying to walk for the first time. His legs were wobbly.

Nothing compared, no fantasy held a candle the feel of her under his touch or her hands on him. He turned her, caressed her, kissed her all on the way to their bed. Then stopped her, his hand traced her silhouette so lightly it barely glanced the the skin as he worked his way from her cheek down along her neck with the back of his knuckles. Two fingers traced her collar bone as she stared straight into his eyes, her chest heaved in short jerks fighting to breath. He opened his hand and watched as his palm ran down the slope of her breast. She leaned into his touch wanting more. It tickled as he crossed her body to her waist, and she nearly buckled, her knees gave way, as he increased the pressure and ran his palm over her hip and pulled her body firmly to his. She gasped for breath, gasped in awe of what his touch did to her. It was more than biology, more than hormones, more than uncontrollable chemical reactions. As he whispered his adoration for each curve, as he kissed each precious part of her she felt loved in a way she couldn't comprehend and had never felt.

And then he laid down with his back on the bed and handed control over to her. He hoped it would make her feel safer, not trapped, not forced. At first she straddled him, her agile hands pressed into his chest to give her balance. His hands held her hips steady. He looked up at her, she laid down on him, pulled him into the most giving long kiss he'd ever experienced. Then she rolled them, which surprised him, and arched up against him. She wanted to be all encompassed by the strength of him, the safety of being shielded by him. Desperately, she whispered against his neck, "Now. I need you, now."

Slowly she felt him line up and push so softly against her that she thought the anticipation alone would kill her. She tried to hurry him, pulling, begging. "No." There was no negotiations, "we're taking this slow." Making this moment theirs alone, he kept talking to her, kept touching, grounding her in this moment with him. Living up to his promise he went very slowly at first. With each movement he pushed a little harder, further until they were as close as they could humanly get and she stilled him.

"Stay." She sounded like she was begging. "Just for a minute, stay." He pressed harder and watched as she closed her eyes. When she opened them big tears fell down her cheeks. "I love you, Booth."

"I know." Kissing away her tears. "I know." he started to move again slowly at first, then faster, he felt her body winding up. He had been so worried about this moment, so worried for her, wanting it all to be perfect for her, healing for her. Every beautiful moan of pleasure, every twitch her body made in response to his devotion was intensely pleasurable, brought him that much closer to his own release. Together, it was just them together, giving and receiving until she broke. She clung to him as waves of release fluttered through her and pulled him in. He couldn't hold it any longer, he fell with her. They collapsed together, spent. She broke, she cried, all the pent up hurt rose to the surface in that moment of complete vulnerability and safety. He rolled them back and pulled her close until her sobs were only whimpers, whimpers became shuddered breaths, until she slept.


End file.
